


Half Light

by pierrot



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 15:16:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9277679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pierrot/pseuds/pierrot
Summary: Aiba always had a knack for finding things. When he met Jun, he thought he might have finally discovered what had been missing from his life, but Jun wasn’t exactly a trinket Aiba could pick up from the side of the road and put in his pocket. Whether Jun would stay by Aiba’s side or just disappear completely was something Aiba had yet to find out.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nicefinalbeam (sparkleboom)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkleboom/gifts).



> Written for the recent [aibaexchange](http://aibaexchange.livejournal.com), originally posted [here.](http://aibaexchange.livejournal.com/14022.html)
> 
> Thank you so much to J for the beta.

It was cold when Aiba climbed into his aircraft. It always was at that time of morning, when the first streams of sunlight were just starting to filter through the dark of night.

He preferred to set off with the onset of dawn. Aiba started by drifting wide to the outskirts of town before he looped back towards the city centre, only hearing the sound of his aircraft’s humming machinery and the odd morning cry of a bird as he flew. From as high up as he was, the entire city was laid out before him. He made a map in his mind of the colours that shimmered above it like a patchwork blanket; little bursts of magic that sparkled and rippled in criss-crossing paths, making connections he would follow.

For as long as he could remember, Aiba had a knack for finding things. Missing treasures that brought delighted smiles when presented to their rightful owners and unexpected surprises that made for perfect gifts. As a child, it meant stumbling upon the ring his mother thought lost down a drain, or the limited edition baseball card that he gave to Nino, securing his friendship for life. As an adult, with honed abilities and ownership of a small aircraft that could take him wherever he wanted to go, he was able to broaden his scope.

It was Aiba who built the aircraft—a compact two-seater made of curved steel and simple enchantments—but it was Nino who suggested he use it for more than just pleasure trips across the city. There were always people searching for something, and Aiba could be the one to make their dreams come true.

(For a price, Nino said then, but Aiba had already begun imagining himself as a kind of mythical figure, bringing joy to the city’s inhabitants with their gratitude being enough of a reward.)

 _Aiba Masaki’s Special Deliveries_ was technically the name of his business, though whether what he did could be considered a business was up for debate. He rarely received requests from actual customers to locate and deliver items; instead, he found objects while out on his morning flight and followed their magical traces to where they belonged. If he was lucky, he received some token of appreciation from the grateful recipients of his surprise deliveries. Money, sometimes, but other kinds of gifts or favours more often than not.

Today was one of those lucky days. A fruit vendor gave Aiba a box full of ripe strawberries in return for a forgotten umbrella, and a young woman, eyes red from crying, insisted on paying him for his successful retrieval of her diamond earring. Aiba accepted the gifts with grace. His parents didn't raise him to be the type of person who rejected the generosity of kind strangers.

He’d been making his deliveries long enough for most people he met to be aware of who we was. Some assumed him to be some sort of scammer—a thief who only returned what he stole—but the majority required no explanation for his appearance. Gossip spread fast in the city and none who met Aiba had a bad word to speak of him.

Even so, there would still always be the occasional person he encountered who was unaware of his reputation and treated him with suspicion.

“How did you find this?”

It was Aiba’s final delivery of the day. An antique watch discovered in a clothing boutique’s dressing room, apparently belonging to the apprehensive man now standing before him.

He was younger than Aiba might have guessed based on the watch. Around his own age and almost as tall, with striking good looks and clothes that surely cost more than Aiba earned in a week.

Aiba found himself caught by the appearance of long, dark lashes that swept prettily over pale skin when the man carefully examined the watch.

“It was in one of the clothing stores in the fifth district,” said Aiba with a smile that was only the tiniest bit fake. “That fancy one with all of the hats.”

“No, I mean—” The man scowled, impatience flashing across his features. “How did you end up with it? And how did you know to return it to me?”

Aiba’s smile faltered, but he quickly recovered. “That’s what I do.” He kept his voice bright, hoping it would be enough to placate the stranger. “I find things.”

“You’ll forgive me if I find that a little hard to accept.”

The accusation wore heavy on the man’s lips. Aiba fidgeted where he stood, feeling sweat slide down the nape of his neck. It was hot where they were in the middle of the marketplace courtyard, with no shade to protect them from the mid-morning sun. Crowds of people bustled around them with a constant hum of noise and activity, paying little attention to the two men stopped still in an awkward standoff.

Aiba sighed. “Look, I didn’t steal it if that’s what you’re thinking. You can ask around about me if you want, people will tell you. _Aiba Masaki’s Special Deliveries_. That’s me: Aiba Masaki. Or you can just take the watch and forget all about this—I’m not asking for anything in return.”

He held out his hand, not wanting to leave on a sour note. “It was nice meeting you.”

The man hesitated for a second, shoulders stiff. He reached out and returned the handshake.

“Wait.”

Aiba felt the grip on his hand tighten before he could pull away. Cold, smooth metal from chunky rings pressed into his skin and dark eyes met his own with piercing intent.

“This watch means a lot to me. I don't want you to think I’m not grateful to get it back.” The man kept his hold on Aiba. “I’ll trust what you say is true, so let me repay the favour somehow. Just… please, explain it to me first. How it is you found it.”

He let his hand drop then and Aiba wrinkled his nose. He never enjoyed having to describe his peculiar kind of magic to strangers; it was always a struggle to find the right words, and too often he was misinterpreted and misunderstood.

“It’s like a locator spell in reverse,” he said, trying to remember the words Sho used the time he attempted to make sense of what Aiba told him about his magic. “But I don’t have to do anything myself, I just see things. It’s like, when something isn’t where it’s supposed to be, it shows me where it wants to go, right? Your watch shimmered a dark purple until I brought it back to you.”

Confusion was a reaction he came to expect when he explained what it was that he did. Visible magic was understood, but only as a result of enchantments—the idea of ordinary objects possessing their own magic was incomprehensible to most.

The man in front of him, however, appeared more intrigued than perplexed.

“So do you just wander around the city all day looking for lost objects?” he asked.

Aiba smiled. “That would be a pain. I fly.”

“Fly?”

“I have an aircraft,” he clarified. Said aircraft had been left outside the marketplace, or else he would have pointed to it then. “I take it out first thing in the morning, above the city. The colours I need to see are still visible from that high up if I concentrate, so it, you know, expediates the whole process.”

The man quirked an eyebrow. “You mean ‘expedites’?” he said, with a laugh threatening to bubble past his lips.

“Huh? Oh, right. Whatever—you knew what I meant!” Aiba huffed. “Stop laughing!”

“Sorry.” The man settled, though he still looked amused. “I didn’t mean it, really. Keep going with what you were saying.”

Aiba eyed him warily for a second and shrugged. “That’s all I had to say. I should get going anyway, so—”

“Hold on a second.” A hand reached out to grasp Aiba’s arm and he stilled. He watched as the man started digging through his bag with his free hand, muttering to himself under his breath, until he pulled out a small, glass bottle.

“Here.” He presented the bottle with a smile that was small but genuine, and Aiba found himself suddenly charmed. “You said you always fly early in the morning and it must be cold. This should help.”

Aiba took the bottle between his fingers and held it up to the light. The glass was dark amber in colour but he could still see what looked like fine powder inside.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Just a little something to ward against allergies and colds. Better than anything you can buy, I promise.”

There was no label on the bottle, causing him to wonder if the potion was homemade. He’d never seen any potions sold in stores with an appearance like the one in his hand, and he’d bought a lot over the years—Aiba had always been prone to sickness and hay fever, and no remedies he’d tried ever quite worked the way they ought.

“If you have a scarf that you wear when you go flying,” the man continued, “sprinkle a little on the part wrapped around your neck. Proximity is best, but you don’t really want to ingest it—too bitter. And you shouldn’t have to reapply unless you wash the scarf or the scent wears off.”

Aiba examined the bottle for another second before looking back at the man. “Thank you, uh, mister…”

“Jun,” the man supplied. “Matsumoto Jun.”

“Thank you, Jun.” He tilted his head. “Jun? Or do you prefer Matsumoto?”

“Jun is fine.”

“I’m Aiba Masaki. Most people call me Aiba, but you can call me whatever you want.”

He failed to realise just how that offer might sound until Jun smirked at him, eyes bright with amusement.

“Wait, that’s not—”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Jun, cutting off Aiba’s attempt to correct himself. “For the next time we meet.”

“The next time?”

Jun simply smiled at him and Aiba was thrown by how open it was, all of the previous seriousness he’d held in his face completely gone. He ended up tongue-tied as Jun gave him a brief nod and turned away to disappear into the crowd behind them. Part of him wanted to chase after Jun to find out if there was something behind the implication in his words, but he was already running late. Thoughts of sharp features and bright eyes, temperamental moods and surprising gifts, had to be pushed aside as he rushed back out of the marketplace to face the rest of the day.

~

Nino might have been Aiba’s oldest and dearest friend, but sometimes he felt more like a particularly difficult housecat whom Aiba had to badger into doing what he wanted.

“Why aren’t you dressed?” he asked as soon as he stepped into Nino’s apartment and saw Nino sprawled against his couch with no pants on. “Come on, Toma’s probably waiting for us already.”

“It’s polite to knock,” was Nino’s only response. He didn’t bother to look up from the wooden shogi board on the coffee table in front of him.

At least, Aiba assumed it was a shogi board. It was hard to tell when tiny, lifelike figurines had replaced the regular pieces. Aiba could see the figurines wore matching uniforms on each side of the board, though some were gold or silver. If he squinted, a few of them looked unnervingly familiar.

He bit back the question on his tongue. Curiosity could be saved for later. Or possibly never.

Instead, he strode over to Nino and tugged on his arm. “It’s more polite to be ready when you’re supposed to be ready. Toma’s going to be mad if we’re late.”

“He will not. You’re just impatient.” Nino swatted his hand away, frowning. “Wait a minute, I’m in the middle of something important.”

“No you’re not! You’re playing shogi, which doesn’t even make sense because you need two players for shogi. Unless you’re playing with a ghost and I already told you that I don’t want you having any ghosts around when I’m here.”

“What? I don’t hang out with ghosts, Aiba, where did you even get that idea? And I’m not playing shogi, I’m trying to make the pieces respond to moves automatically so that it’s possible for a player to practise without a physical opponent. I told you about this already.”

Nino was being extra snappy, which Aiba knew meant he’d likely been at whatever he was doing for hours without breaks for food or to properly rest his back. It was how he always got when he was working on a project that interested him, whether for a paid job or personal curiosity. In this particular instance, Aiba suspected the latter.

Whatever Nino might say otherwise, he knew it was a good time for him to intervene.

“Friends are more important than games, Nino,” he said, tugging at Nino’s arm once more.

“What friends?” Nino grumbled, but he got up off the floor and shuffled towards his bedroom.

The comment didn’t bother Aiba. He knew Nino liked to play at being a misanthrope more than he actually was one. In a couple of hours, with a drink in his hand and friends by his side, he would almost certainly have no more thoughts on his mind about the shogi board left behind in his apartment. That was the usual pattern.

Drinking with Toma and Nino to celebrate the end of the week was a tradition stretching back almost as long as they’d been legally allowed. The three of them had become friends as children, playing games of pretend and terrorising the neighbourhood where they lived, and they’d seen each other through too many embarrassing moments and difficult times to ever break apart.

Aiba liked how comfortable the routine was. He liked sitting at the same booth at the same bar, sharing old jokes and new gossip. He liked listening to Nino and Toma recount the highlights of their week, and he liked describing his various encounters with the people he met on his morning trips across the city.

He wasted little time before bringing up the previous day’s incident with the antique watch and Matsumoto Jun.

“So what does this guy look like?” Nino asked, interrupting him just as he was going over Jun’s odd parting words. “Wavy hair, kinda thick eyebrows, a huge mole under his bottom lip?”

“Huge makes it sound bad. It’s distinctive.” Aiba frowned. “Wait, how did you know that?”

“And is he possibly sitting over at the bar right now? In the navy jacket?”

He turned in his seat, following the direction of Nino’s nod. Amongst the bodies of drunk and almost disorderly jostling for space at the bar was a familiar figure in a navy jacket. Aiba couldn’t see his face, but the lines of the man’s shoulders and the way his hair curled around his large ears were enough for him to recognise the same person who had left him confused in the marketplace. Matsumoto Jun. In his favourite bar, right when Aiba had been talking about him.

“He kept looking over here earlier.” The sound of Nino's voice snapped Aiba back to attention. “I think he was trying to catch your eye, but you were in the middle of talking about that girl with the frogs and you didn’t notice.”

“I thought he was looking at me,” said Toma with a grin. “Smitten by my handsome face, no doubt.”

Aiba didn’t bother to dignify Toma's comment with a response. “Why didn’t you say something to me? Now he’ll think I’ve been ignoring him.”

Nino shrugged. “If he wanted to talk to you, he should have come over here.”

“The two of you probably scared him off!”

“Hey!” Toma protested. “I’m friendly. All I did was smile at him.”

Aiba looked over at Nino. “And you?” His eyes narrowed, thinking back over the past hour. “Is that why you’ve been sitting so close to me all night?”

“You’re paranoid,” replied Nino. “But if I was doing anything, it was only to save you from being bothered by some creepy guy who seems like he just wants into your pants.”

“Nino!”

“Why are you upset?” Nino raised one eyebrow slowly at him, daring Aiba to look away. “Are you interested in him?”

Both Nino and Toma stared questioningly at him, waiting for his response. Aiba’s cheeks grew hot.

“He is pretty attractive,” offered Toma.

“I don’t like him,” Nino said. “He looks way too flashy, like the kind of guy who wears cufflinks and bad cologne and thinks he’s hot shit but sucks in bed. You can do better.”

“He’s not like that.” Aiba frowned, thinking of the small, glass jar on his bedside table. Truthfully, he didn’t know Jun at all, but when he sprinkled some of the powder inside on his scarf that morning, he found a scent that was oddly comforting and softly sweet, like a flower garden after a rainfall.

His scarf seemed warmer than usual when he put it on after that. It reminded him of the last, unexpected smile Jun sent his way.

With the thought of that smile, he took a final sip of his drink and returned the glass to the table with a thud. “I’m going to go talk to him.” He nudged Nino’s shoulder. “Move.”

Nino didn’t budge. “Wait.”

Aiba prodded him again. “Nino, you’re not the guardian of my pants.”

“Believe me, I’m not trying to be.” He looked at Aiba properly. “Promise me first that you’re not going to say anything weird. Don’t get all nervous and blurt out the first thing that comes into your head.”

“I wasn’t going to!”

“I can give you a good opening line if you want,” Toma said. “He looks pretty smooth. Could be tough.”

Aiba shot him a look. “Neither of you are helpful.”

He was tired of waiting for Nino to cooperate, so he stood up. It was an awkward fit for his legs in the narrow space between the seat and the table, and he had to use his hands to balance himself before trying to get past Nino.

“As your friend, I’m just trying to help you succeed,” Nino said as Aiba clambered over him. “I don’t want you coming back here in five minutes all depressed.”

“Don’t come back at all,” Toma added. “I believe in you, Aiba! Show this guy your charm.”

Aiba escaped with only the slightest stumble over Nino’s feet and a refusal to look back at either of his friends. He squared his gaze on Jun, still in the same position as before, but now less than ten strides away from where he was standing.

Uncertainty hit him.

He had just been planning on greeting Jun, but the conversation with Nino and Toma had twisted the thoughts in his mind. It hadn’t occurred to him to think Jun might be difficult to approach, or that he needed to plan for some kind of end goal. He was only acting on gut feeling, and his gut was compelling him to not let the chance to talk to Jun slip away.

He could be charming. He wasn’t weird and he didn’t need “help” from Nino and Toma to talk to someone.

That was what Aiba told himself as moved into the space beside Jun, taking a calming breath before he spoke.

“Come here often?”

He leaned against the counter of the bar and shot Jun what he hoped was his most charming smile, somewhat lopsided and revealing teeth. It faded when Jun turned to face him. His eyebrows were starkly arched over eyes that showed no humour, and the flash of recognition appearing across his features didn’t lift his unimpressed expression.

“What,” said Jun, “no cheesy wink to go with such a clichéd line?”

Aiba pulled back a fraction and laughed, short and breathy with nerves. “I might have, but I can’t.” He scrunched up his face, trying in vain to keep one eye open while he closed the other. “See?”

The action made Jun’s mouth twitch and the cold look in his eyes disappeared in an instant. “Cute,” he said, and Aiba grinned. “Much cuter than the uninspired way you chose to approach me. I took you to be more creative than that.”

It was news to Aiba that their brief meeting the other day had been enough for Jun to develop any expectations of him. He didn’t like to think he might be disappointing them.

“Blame my friends,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of where Nino and Toma were seated. “They put a ban on me using any of my usual conversation starters.”

The explanation was a rather loose interpretation of what had transpired, but it was easier to shift blame than reveal insecurity.

A grin blossomed across Jun’s face. “Well, now you have to tell me one. Give me your very best.”

Feeling a little more confident, Aiba tugged at the empty stool behind him and settled onto it. He leaned forward, one arm resting on the bar, and looked at Jun with complete seriousness.

“Okay. Do you believe vampires exist?”

“Vampires?”

“Yes.”

“No. I think I can say pretty confidently that they don’t.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Aiba held his smile past Jun’s doubtful stare and pressed on. “See that bartender over there?” He nodded his head towards the far end of the bar. “I’ve never seen him around when the sun is out and I swear he hasn’t aged a day in the years I’ve been coming here. Besides, just look at him. Doesn’t his face scream vampire to you?”

There was a pause as Jun turned to check out the supposedly vampiric bartender. Aiba made use of his distraction to shuffle a little closer, their knees almost touching.

“I guess I can sort of see what you mean,” Jun said after a moment, looking back at Aiba. “He does have a rather pasty, undead look about him.”

Aiba grinned. “So you agree with me?”

Another considering pause followed the question, and then, a teasing smile. “I think your friends were right to tell you to ditch that as an opening line. If some strange person came up to me and started talking about vampires, I would likely make quick excuses to go elsewhere.”

“But you’re still here.”

“I suppose.”

Both of their smiles kept widening, mirror images bordering on ridiculous. Aiba’s cheeks hurt.

“I’d say that I can consider it a success then, wouldn’t you?” he said, persistent now he was certain he’d captured Jun’s attention. “Enough of one for you to let me buy you a drink?”

Jun made a small hum in the back of his throat.

“No.”

Aiba’s face fell.

“Not yet,” Jun said then, leaning closer. He picked up his glass on the counter and drained the remainder of the contents, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand once he was done. “Now you can.”

Aiba lifted his brow, unsure of whether to feel annoyed by the trick. He stared at Jun for a second, only finding a glint of a challenge, and signalled for one of the bartenders to bring them another round.

It became difficult for Aiba to stay steady on his stool when he was buzzing with a slight tipsiness, only just catching himself from leaning too far forward as he looked at Jun. Or perhaps the threat to his equilibrium came more from the way his gaze kept being distracted by crooked lips and high cheekbones, long fingers that wrapped around the outside of a glass newly delivered by a bartender.

“So, Matsujun,” Aiba said after the bartender left. Jun choked on his drink and Aiba continued, “Are you from around here?”

“Matsujun?” Jun said, still spluttering slightly. “What happened to calling me Jun?”

“You don’t like Matsujun?”

Jun picked up a paper serviette and dabbed his mouth. “No, it’s fine. Just… unexpected.” He placed the serviette back on the counter, composed once more. “And to answer your question—yes. I’ve been mostly elsewhere these past few years for work, but I’m from here originally.”

Aiba nodded. “That’s a shame. I thought I could offer to show you around.”

“You could do that anyway,” Jun said. “I’m sure things have changed a fair bit since I’ve been gone.”

“And how long has that been?”

Jun shrugged. “Too long.”

There was a hint of finality in the way those words were spoken, as if he didn’t want to have to elaborate any further. Aiba decided to leave the matter be. He allowed Jun to steer the conversation towards questions about Aiba’s work, which he happily answered. The presence of a fresh, attentive audience allowed him to revisit all of his favourite stories from over the years in great detail, jumping from one to the next as Jun showed no loss of interest.

It was easy to talk to Jun. So easy that he lost track of how much time had passed, not realising Nino and Toma had left until he glanced over at where they’d been sitting and found the booth empty. He would have felt annoyed they hadn’t bothered to say goodbye to him first, or guilty he’d forgotten they were even there, but those feelings dissipated when he looked back at Jun and saw him still laughing at a joke Aiba made.

He liked how Jun looked when he laughed. Unrestrained and completely genuine. Aiba made it his personal goal to bring forth as many of those laughs as he could over the rest of the night.

Their conversation only ever became stilted when Aiba approached the topic of what it was Jun did for a living. He was curious as to why it was Jun seemed so reluctant to discuss his work, but his curiosity was pushed aside by a more pressing realisation.

He wanted Jun.

He wanted him enough that his flirtation became more overt, until he was leaning right into Jun’s space and suggesting they move to Aiba’s apartment.

Jun appeared as if he was about to accept, mouth already forming the words, and then he hesitated. He held still, eyes searching Aiba’s with enough intensity to make his mouth turn dry.

“How drunk are you right now?” he asked.

Aiba frowned. The question wasn’t one he expected or wanted right then, not when his entire being was screaming at him to go, _now_ , to a place where he could touch Jun as much as he needed. “I’m not drunk,” he replied. He didn’t think he was lying. His cheeks were hot and his body felt loose, but there was clarity in his mind when he looked at Jun.

One of Jun’s hands came up to rest on his shoulder. “I like you,” he said, and Aiba warmed. “I like you and I don’t want to take advantage here… I don’t want this to end up a drunken mistake.”

“Not a mistake,” Aiba said, shifting closer. “You’re thinking too much.”

Jun’s fingers slid up Aiba’s shoulder and curled into his skin.

“Okay.”

~

Later, when they were in Aiba’s bed, Jun’s hand ended up in that same spot pressed against the juncture between Aiba’s neck and left shoulder. His fingers ghosted down over the curve, tracing familiar outlines across bare skin.

“How did you get this?”

It took Aiba a few seconds to respond, distracted by the taste of Jun’s skin under his tongue. “Hm?” he murmured in between slow kisses down Jun’s chest. “You mean my birthmark? Dunno, always had it.”

The feeling of light touches creeping towards his back made him shiver.

“It’s interesting. Kinda pretty.”

Jun’s hand tightened with a slight tug and Aiba looked up, chin tilting so he could meet his gaze.

“You’re pretty,” Jun said.

Aiba smiled at him. “I’m a lot more than just pretty.”

He shifted the weight of his body, pressing firm against the flat planes of Jun’s stomach, and dropped his mouth, slowly, to take one of Jun’s nipples between his teeth, eyes never leaving his face.

A small, sharp hiss let him know how appreciated he was.

“Show me.”

Aiba did.

~

Late nights were never a reason for Aiba to skip his morning flight. His alarm sounded at the same time as always and he pushed himself out of bed to turn it off, with movements that were rather more sluggish than usual.

A tingling soreness in his muscles was a pleasant reminder of the previous night.

The only acknowledgement Jun gave of the alarm was to grunt and roll over, burying his head into his pillow. He was still in the same position when Aiba returned from his shower, barely even flinching when Aiba crawled onto the bed beside him and started shaking his arm.

“Matsujun,” he said, pressing his fingers with a little more insistence. Jun’s face curled into a scowl. “Wanna come out with me?”

It took a few more shakes before Jun looked at him, one eye cracking open. “What time is it?”

“Hmm… five-thirty?”

Jun groaned and turned his head away. “Too early.”

Aiba wasn’t discouraged. He climbed over Jun’s torso, resting his forearms on the bed so he could keep hovered above Jun. “Come on.” He tried to move his legs and his knees collided with Jun’s through the blanket. “It’ll be fun. I’ll drop you home after.”

“Five-thirty is not an okay time for anyone to be awake on a Saturday morning.” Jun kept his eyes closed as he spoke this time. He wriggled under Aiba for a moment before he stopped and sunk even further back into his pillow. His face fell slack, full lips parting.

Their appearance reminded Aiba of how they felt against his skin and he was struck by an idea.

“What if I made being awake more worthwhile?” he said, shifting his hips.

That was enough to make Jun’s eyes open again. He stared at Aiba for a few seconds, seemingly caught in indecision, until Aiba moved again and he responded with a returning press of his hips.

Jun’s tongue darted out to lick his lips, head lifting off the pillow. “I’m listening.”

By the time Aiba was through with his persuasion and Jun was dressed in some of his borrowed clothes, the sun was out. The delay was worth having Jun beside him as he made his way up to the roof of his apartment building. Aiba was barely able to suppress his anticipation when he pushed open the door to the roof and revealed what lay on the other side.

“That’s yours?” Jun asked, eyes widening as he caught sight of the aircraft parked on top of the roof.

“All mine,” Aiba confirmed. He took Jun’s hand and tugged him to follow as he made his way closer. “Beautiful, isn’t she?”

Jun nodded, not looking at Aiba. His gaze was fixed on examining the aircraft, moving slowly as he circled around the exterior. Once he was on the other side from Aiba, he looked up, eyes shining.

“Can we fly now?”

Aiba laughed. It had been far too long since he’d been out with an enthusiastic passenger. Ohno never followed through with Aiba's invitations, whereas Sho had been curious, but a lone attempt which left angry, red fingernail marks in Aiba’s arm for days after caused them both to not wish to repeat the experience. Nino just always flatly refused. That left Toma as the only one of his close friends who made for a good companion, and even he was too busy these days.

Aiba reached into the small compartment in front of the passenger seat and plucked out a pair of goggles which he tossed to Jun. “Wear these,” he said.

The goggles distorted Jun’s already strong features in a rather comical fashion.

“How do I look?” Jun asked. “Handsome?”

Aiba pursed his lips, as if to consider. “Sorta like a wood carving?”

He was already learning to grow too fond of Jun’s petulant scowls.

The scarf he’d used the previous morning was snug around his neck, and he could still smell the faint notes of Jun’s potion. He unwrapped one end once they were seated to pass over to Jun.

“Here,” he said. “You’ll be cold.”

Jun tried to push the offered material away. “I’m fine.”

“Don’t be silly.” Aiba was already leaning across the space that separated them, pulling the scarf around Jun’s neck. “It’s long enough for us to share.”

Even with less material protecting his exposed skin, he didn’t feel colder than usual. Heat flushed through his cheeks as he lifted them off the roof, growing with every small tug of movement he could feel from Jun.

Flying never lost its appeal to Aiba. The first, loud kick of the engine, the slight drop in the pit of his stomach when he soared higher, the feeling of wind whipping against his face as he built speed. Jun was like a child next to him, encouraging Aiba to go faster, and making loud, pleased noises when he did.

He decided to cut short his usual, winding path and headed straight for the centre of the city, where the brightest colours could be found. They revealed themselves in jumbled patterns as always, and Aiba marked in his mind the lines that shone most clear.

“Are you finding things now?” Jun asked, after he’d been silent for a few minutes.

Aiba looked at him. “Can you see anything?” he asked, curious. “Colours, or lines… or just an unusual feeling of sorts?”

He’d never found anyone who could see the colours the way he did, but those who were more intuitive of magic could sometimes grasp a vague sense of them when he pointed them out. Nino had once tagged along with him when he walked through the city making deliveries and declared that the whole process made him feel kind of queasy.

Jun leaned over the side of the aircraft and stared down at the city below them, brow furrowing. “Sort of… a haze, I guess? I can’t make anything out but… little wisps of _something_.”

He looked disappointed with himself, but Aiba was impressed. And intrigued. It suggested that Jun had some fairly powerful magic of his own, and that was the most indication of what it was he did for a living Aiba had been able to get thus far.

He could question Jun on it but he didn’t. The morning was too nice to ruin with more evasiveness from Jun. Instead, he picked his first target and turned his aircraft in its direction, explaining to Jun what he was doing all the while.

Though Aiba was keeping his questions to himself, Jun had no such reservations. Every minute that passed brought a new query, like _does each individual colour hold any particular significance?_ (not that Aiba had been able to determine) and _how does he know that it’s okay to go into that unmarked building?_ (he didn’t, but he was going to try anyway). Aiba did the best he could to fulfil Jun’s curiosity, though it was difficult to come up with satisfactory answers when he acted on intuition more than anything else.

Some of Jun’s enthusiasm dulled when they entered that unmarked building and discovered what Aiba was looking for: a small, grey tabby cat.

“Isn’t he adorable?” Aiba said, lifting the cat into his arms and confirming that, yes, the cat was indeed a _he_.

Jun swallowed. “I… animals don’t really like me.”

Aiba cradled the cat against his chest, rocking it slightly. “You’ll like Jun here, won’t you? You’re a good cat.” He looked back over at Jun. “He’ll have to sit with you while we make our way back to his owner. Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”

Jun ended up sporting three new rips in the clothes he borrowed from Aiba and a small scratch on his inner wrist by the time said owner was found.

Despite the unpleasantness with the cat, Aiba was fairly certain Jun was enjoying himself. Very certain, in fact—it had quickly become apparent to him that Jun showed every emotional response openly on his face, so it was too easy to tell just how he felt. Jun didn’t like mornings and he didn’t like cats, but he liked flying and people and he definitely seemed to like Aiba.

The morning stretched through three deliveries and Aiba's growling stomach decided it was time for a break. They ducked inside a nearby soba restaurant—not one Aiba was familiar with, but he always liked trying new things—and enjoyed a late breakfast accompanied by a steady stream of relaxed conversation. Jun was as good a dining companion as he was a flying companion. Aiba felt as if they'd already known each a long time, so easily falling into a place of shared understanding.

“Ahh, this is way more fun with someone else,” Aiba said as they walked through the narrow streets leading away from the restaurant. “Next time, I’m definitely going to make you get up earlier so I can take you out a bit further. There’s this really cool spot near the ocean, and—”

His words disappeared with the realisation that Jun had stopped walking. Aiba turned to face him. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” Jun frowned, and the look on his face was so troubled that Aiba’s heart stopped for a second.

“Oh.”

Of course. He’d run away with his thoughts and spoken without thinking, and now his perfect, fantasy morning with Jun was fracturing with every discomfited shift of Jun’s face in front of him.

“It’s not… I travel. Too much.” Jun licked his lips. “I don’t like making promises I can’t keep.”

“Right.”

Jun stepped forward, hand reaching out to take a light hold of Aiba’s wrist. The spot where his thumb brushed against Aiba’s skin tingled with warmth, and that was too unfair.

“I had a really great time with you.”

“Me too.” Aiba swallowed and forced a smile. “It was fun. So fun that I totally lost track of time, y’know, and I forgot that I have this whole puppy thing to deal with. They’re not going to walk themselves, so…”

The rest of his words died in his throat, knowing now was the time to say his goodbyes and attempt a dignified exit but not wanting to do so. He searched Jun’s eyes for any sign that he’d been mistaken in interpreting his response as a rejection.

Jun tightened his grip on Aiba’s wrist for a second, but then he let go.

“That puppy issue sounds important,” he said, and it was ridiculous, but his face remained serious. “You should get to it.”

It suddenly occurred to Aiba that he really didn’t want to be the one watching Jun disappear this time.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding vigorously. “I will.”

His feet were still taking too long to move, and he watched in fear as Jun’s face grew even more uncomfortable, lips parting slowly to say something that would break the silence.

Aiba beat him to the punch.

“I’ll see you again soon, Jun,” he said, and turned away before Jun could correct him.

If he didn’t hear anything directly to refute it, then Aiba could still believe what he said to be true.

~

Aiba spent the rest of the weekend with Jun on his mind. The short time spent together left enough triggers for reminders: the lingering scent on Aiba’s scarf, a stray cat that shot past him in the streets, a phrase spoken with a similar intonation. Even without the help, he was bothered enough by Jun’s awkward rejection to continually return to the details of their interactions while he was supposed to be concerned with other matters, examining them from every angle to try understand what had happened.

It didn’t make sense, he concluded. He was a little rusty when it came to matters such as this—a lot rusty, to be more accurate—but he still knew how to tell the difference between a casual hook up and the start of something with potential.

There had been a lot of potential in the way Jun had looked at him during those last few moments before they’d fallen asleep.

“I don’t know, Aiba,” Sho said after he spent a full twenty minutes describing the night and the following morning he'd spent with Jun. “It does kind of sound like it was a one night stand.”

Just as how Friday nights were for drinking with Nino and Toma, Sunday afternoons were always spent with Ohno and Sho inside of Ohno’s shop after he’d closed for the day. Ohno was the creative vision behind _Patisserie S_ , source of the trendiest cakes and pastries in the city. As friends of Ohno, Aiba and Sho were always treated to samples of his creations once the crowds of people who usually flooded the store had been turned away.

Aiba frowned at Sho’s assessment. He wanted to protest, but he didn’t think that he could. Not when Jun had left without providing Aiba with any means to contact him.

“I don’t want it to be,” is what he finally settled upon.

Sho’s eyes widened. “You like him that much? Already?”

“You would understand if you met him.” Aiba paused, thinking of Nino’s first impression of Jun. “Or maybe not. But he’s perfect, really—funny and sweet and hot, like... _so_ hot, I mean, his dick alone is just…”

Sho grinned. “Good?”

“The best.”

Ohno chose that moment to interrupt them, placing a latte on the table in front of Sho. “What are you talking about?”

“Penises,” Sho replied.

Ohno nodded. “Mine curves to the left. Do you want something to eat?”

“Always.” Sho leaned forward as he spoke to Ohno, eyes flickering down his body for just a second, and Aiba wondered if he was aware that he was doing it. “I’ve been looking forward to having one of your cakes all day.”

“That’s why you’re my favourite customer.”

“Hey!” Aiba protested.

“You’re not a customer,” Ohno replied. He frowned. “Did you tidy the storeroom?”

Aiba smiled guiltily. “Oops.” He got up from where he’d been sitting with Sho and grinned past Ohno’s grumpy expression. “I was just about to get to it now, I promise! Save me cake!”

Aiba always believed it was fate which brought him to the sky blue doors of _Patisserie S_. Seven years earlier, when he had just started _Aiba Masaki’s Special Deliveries_ , he found a simple flyer with the words "HELP WANTED" printed at the top of the page, a sketch of some rather elaborate cakes underneath, and a phone number scribbled near the bottom corner—an afterthought.

It wasn’t the type of thing Aiba usually found for his deliveries but he always trusted his senses and the flyer had glowed with a particularly vibrant turquoise. He followed the trail attached to it all the way to Ohno, who had been in the midst of painting the walls inside his store when Aiba wandered inside.

He presented the flyer to Ohno then, a little perplexed when it was revealed to be his advertisement.

Ohno offered him a job on the spot.

It turned out to be a perfect partnership. Ohno didn’t need any assistance with creating the delicate cakes and pastries responsible for bringing people inside his doors, but he needed someone who could smile cheerfully and wrangle customers with equal parts gentle patience and forceful charm.

Satomi, with her stunning smiles and good humour, had been that someone before Aiba showed up, but she had afternoon classes to attend, and the midday rush was more than one person could reasonably handle. Aiba slotted into the small operation naturally, arriving after his morning deliveries to take over for the rest of the day.

And while Aiba only knew the basics of baking, he’d always had a love for creative experimentation. Ohno was happy to listen to his suggestions for potential flavour combinations, or new ways he'd thought of to use liquid nitrogen, and many of the results were surprisingly successful.

(Not all of the experiments were winners. Sho threatened to stop coming the week Aiba got a little overambitious with wanting to find new, sweet uses for vegetables. No one had believed him; Sho came into the store at least three times a week since it opened—initially as a devoted, paying customer, but eventually as a friend—and neither illness nor work ever kept him away for too long.)

When Aiba returned from the storeroom, Sho was already on his second plate.

“This is so good, Ohno,” he said around a mouthful of green apple mousse cake. “What’s the layer at the bottom? Above the base?”

“Caramelised white chocolate.”

Sho sunk his fork into the cake and took another huge mouthful. “So good.” A dollop of cream remained smeared on the corner of his mouth and his eyes fluttered shut as he savoured the taste, head tilting back.

Aiba and Satomi often used the free moments during their overlapping shifts to swap their best “Sho eating things way too pornographically” stories. Aiba was sure Sho knew about it at this point and exaggerated his reactions for their sake. He didn’t think Sho knew about their other ongoing discussion, “Just how in love with Ohno is Sho anyway?” but he still provided plenty of fodder for that as well.

The ongoing bet as to when either of them would finally act on their obvious mutual attraction was still yet to reach its outcome.

Ohno reached across the table to wipe the cream off Sho’s lips, seemingly not noticing the way Sho’s breath hitched at the gesture. A hint of colour appeared in Sho’s cheeks and he turned to Aiba.

“Are you going to try see this Matsujun guy again?”

“Did you listen to the part where I said that he didn’t give me any way to contact him?”

“Ah. Right.” Sho shrugged. Aiba had the distinct impression that he wasn’t entirely focused. “But I figured you might manage to find a way somehow anyway. That’s kind of what you do.”

Aiba sighed. If only it could be that simple.

The solid touch of a hand on his arm had him breaking out of his melancholy. He looked up and saw Ohno’s gentle face smiling at him.

“Here.” He pushed an untouched box of macarons across the table to Aiba. “Have one.”

“Oh!” Aiba cocked his head. “I thought they were for Sho?”

“I don’t eat that much!” At Aiba’s raised eyebrows and soft snort, Sho’s look of indignation faded, bottom lip pushing out into a small pout. “Ohno wouldn’t let me have one.”

“They’re not like usual,” Ohno explained. “Had to scrap the whole batch, but I thought you might like one.”

It didn’t bother Aiba to be used as a test subject for Ohno’s unsellable experiments. There was always a thrill to not knowing what to expect: Ohno rarely elaborated on what exactly it was he gave to Aiba to try, and that gave him the chance to make a judgement free from preconceptions.

He reached into the box and plucked out a cream coloured macaron with pale green filling. “Artichoke?” he asked, sniffing the confection. “It doesn’t look any different to usual.”

Though Ohno’s cakes were definite works of art, the true prized products of his store were his macarons. Part of why had to with the changing variety of unusual flavours—Aiba always had a hand in developing those—but what set them above all other imitators came from Ohno’s own unique specialty. Every macaron sold at _Patisserie S_ brought with it the promise of giving the customer a pleasant sense of calm with their first bite.

Theoretically, Ohno should have been able to infuse what it was he made with different kinds of feelings, but Ohno said it never worked out that way. The feelings in the biscuit came from the feelings he was able to muster as he created them, and baking was always a relaxing activity for Ohno.

It was why he always made sure to have plenty of days off and never took requests for special orders: working under too much pressure ruined the integrity of the end result. Similarly, having anyone else assist him with making the macarons was out of the question.

Aiba took a generous bite and waited for the familiar soft sensation to press against his tastebuds and trickle down his throat. He’d heard the effect of Ohno’s macarons described in all sorts of ways over the years, but for him it always came with memories of cool ocean breezes, the soft whir of machinery, a gentle hand pressed against his left shoulder. Only fleeting, but enough to leave him with a certain steadiness for as long as the sweet taste lingered on his tongue.

His mouth tingled faintly the way it usually did, and then, something changed. Warmth flooded him with small sparks shooting through his chest, prickling under his skin all the way to his fingertips. His mind conjured images of that nerve-wracking night lying awake before his first confession, delicate fingers wrapped around his as he ran through city streets under the summer sun, the image of Jun’s smile when there was nothing to hold it back.

It was gone too soon. Aiba looked at Ohno with puzzlement in his eyes and was met by a patient stare showing little beyond a hope for him to understand.

It took a few seconds for him to get there, but eventually, Aiba did.

“Really?” he said to Ohno, the pitch of his voice rising as his eyes widened.

Ohno nodded.

Aiba dropped the remainder of his macaron onto his plate, needing free use of his hands to do… _something_. He wanted to hug Ohno, or Sho, or maybe both, but such an action would be difficult to explain without unintentionally ruining whatever Ohno’s plan was.

“Wait, what?” Sho said, looking back and forth between them. “Is there something special about those macarons? Are you really not going to let me try one?”

“I’ll give you one in a minute,” Ohno said, and shot Aiba a look.

Aiba didn’t need more of a hint. “I need to leave now,” he said, abandoning subtlety in his excitement. “Enjoy the rest of your afternoon, okay?” He paused in the middle of scrambling out of his chair and met Sho’s bewildered expression. “Really, just… be happy!”

As he left the store, he hoped his reputation for eccentricity was enough to cover his odd behaviour. Aiba had waited far too long for one of them to make a move, and he wasn’t about to let himself get in the way now that it was actually happening. He even resisted the temptation to try to spy on them through the store windows before he left (though he made sure to shoot Ohno one last parting grin).

The excitement he felt over the afternoon's events was almost enough to take his mind off Jun. For a little while, at least.

~

Sometimes, Aiba wasn’t the most patient person. He found it painful to have to wait to learn the outcome of what happened between Ohno and Sho after he left on Sunday afternoon. The store was closed on Mondays, and when he burst into the store on Tuesday morning, only Satomi was working out in the front.

“Ohno’s resting upstairs,” she told him.

That could have been predicted; most of Ohno’s work was done early in the morning, and he often took a nap in his apartment above the shop before he had to start on preparations for the next day.

Even so, Aiba was disappointed. He considered heading upstairs to wake Ohno, but Satomi knew him too well. She thrust an apron in his hands and dragged him to the register the instant he lingered too long in front of the stairs.

“We’re very busy today, Aiba,” she said, sunny smile disguising the sharp edge in her voice. “Ohno is exhausted, and _I_ need help.”

Customers who came into the store often liked to describe Satomi as an angel and they weren't exactly far from the truth, though the glint that sparked in her eyes when Aiba did something foolish spoke of layers beyond her sweet exterior. Aiba had never managed to push her past the breaking point he was certain she must possess, and he wasn’t about to do so now—or ever. He shot a last look over his shoulder at the stairs and slid his apron on over his head, finding the smile he reserved for customers.

Tuesday wasn’t a regular day for Sho to visit. He was a man of routine: Sunday afternoons after the store closed, Saturday mornings before he went to his office, Wednesday lunchtimes to break up the working week. The occasional Friday when he was in danger of burning out and needed the extra boost. Those were the times when Aiba knew he could expect to see Sho.

Tuesday wasn’t a regular day for Sho to visit but then, there he was, walking through the door at the end of the lunch rush. Aiba had to remind himself that all of their customers deserved equal, attentive service so not to try rush Sho to the front of the line. Even if he really wanted to do so.

The grin he wore had turned slightly manic by the time Sho reached the counter.

“Sho!”

“Hey, Aiba.” Sho’s eyes flickered to the doorway that led to the kitchen. “Uh—”

“Looking for Ohno?”

Sho pulled his gaze back to the display. “No, um… I’ll just have a coffee macaron. And a coffee. A large latte, no sugar.” He swallowed and looked up. “Is he around?”

“Upstairs.”

“Oh.”

Aiba looked at the queue behind Sho. Only two customers, both familiar faces. Neither likely to complain about an additional wait, especially not after he made it up to them.

He wasn’t supposed to leave the store unattended and Satomi had already left for the day, but rules could always be broken.

“Actually, I think Ohno had something to give you.” He brought his hands together in apology as he smiled at the other customers. “Sorry, I’ll just be a minute. Stay right there!”

“Aiba—”

He was gone before Sho had a chance to finish his protest.

Dragging Ohno away from his bed without giving him an opportunity to understand why provided a challenge, but one Aiba had more than enough determination to overcome. They stumbled down the stairs before Ohno’s eyes were even fully open, Aiba pushing him all the way.

Ohno stopped when he caught sight of Sho and smiled. “Hi.”

What happened next was the important moment: the moment when Aiba should be able to confirm for certain whether something had changed between them.

Sho’s expression gave him away in an instant.

All eyes in the store were on the two of them. Sho was clearly aware of it, face twitching as he tried to remain composed. It was fascinating to watch, but Aiba still had customers who were waiting. He whispered to the lady behind Sho to approach the counter, keeping a careful eye on Ohno and Sho as he served her.

“Aiba said you have something for me?”

Ohno blinked. “I do?” He looked at Aiba, and then back at Sho. A long pause followed, and Ohno looked at Aiba again. “Is this one of those situations where I’m supposed to tell Sho I have something for him in my pants?”

The woman Aiba was serving had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. Aiba had no such success.

The tips of Sho’s ears reddened and he rushed behind the counter to grab Ohno’s hand before dragging him to the back room.

“I was joking, Sho, but if you really want—”

The door slammed shut.

With a satisfied grin on his face, Aiba returned to placing macarons in a box for the woman in front of him. “Sorry about that. Here, let me give you an extra one for the wait. On the house.”

When Sho reappeared from the back room, seventeen minutes later, his cheeks were flushed and his gaze flickered to Aiba for a panicked moment before turning to the floor. Continuing to avoid Aiba’s stare, he strode through the store with his chin held high.

“I still have your macaron here,” Aiba said to Sho as he passed.

Sho faltered but did not stop. “Save it for me,” he replied, almost at the door. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Aiba was sure he would.

~

He was glad when Sho continued to stop by the store after lunch for the remainder of the week. He was glad, but the sight of Ohno and Sho smiling at each other made something his chest tighten. A hollow feeling that tugged at the base of his throat. It was similar to how he felt when he arrived home after a long day and found his apartment just how he left it, or when his eyes wandered around the bar during drinks with Nino and Toma, searching for something that wasn’t quite there.

Aiba often wondered why it was that the colours he saw never linked people together. It might be easier, then. He could follow a defined path until he found what it was he was looking for and know for certain that whoever appeared in front of him was the right person.

Maybe it was because people weren’t possessions or pets; they couldn’t be owned by someone else. Or maybe it was because the heart was always going to make its own path to follow without interference from outside forces.

He didn’t know.

~

“You okay? You seem a little quiet tonight.”

Aiba looked across at Toma, sitting beside him. It was Friday night again. Exactly a week since he’d encountered Jun in the very bar they were drinking at then.

There was no Jun to be found that night.

“Do I?” he said, smiling lightly to ward off Toma’s concerned frown. “I guess I must’ve been lost in my thoughts. You know me, always so easily distracted.”

He nudged Toma’s leg under the table with his knee and nodded to the other side of the room. “I think someone must have given Nino a shot—he looks like he’s about to try flirt with that older couple over there and I don't think they're looking for a third."

Toma's eyes widened with happy curiosity as he sought Nino out. "Should we rescue him now, or wait for a bit and see how he goes?” he asked Aiba, and the previous subject of conversation was forgotten.

Aiba grinned and tugged at Toma's hand. "Let's at least go for a closer look."

Nino was in fine form all evening. It took most of Aiba’s attention just to keep up with him as they all flitted across the bar at Nino's direction for more drinks, more drunken conversation, more meaningless flirtation with strangers that became almost competitive. The strange feeling that gnawed at him from the pit of his stomach, creeping up along his skin, only returned when he walked home at the end of it all; alone, once more.

The only cure for it, he decided later when he was lying in bed trying to sleep, was to stop thinking about Jun.

It was easier to do than he’d expected. Saturdays were always a busy day for the store, and that Saturday was particularly so. He skipped his morning flight for the first time in a long while, not wanting to spend so much time alone with his thoughts, and went straight to the familiar blue doors of _Patisserie S_ before it opened. It meant he was exhausted by the time the afternoon rolled around. His feet ached, his cheeks were stiff, and there was no energy left for his mind to wander.

“Go home, Aiba,” Ohno said when they closed the front entrance. “Sho’s going to be here soon. I’ll get him to help me finish up.”

On a normal day, Aiba would insist on staying, but he really was at his limit. “The two of you having a date?” he said instead.

Ohno nodded. “I’m going to make us dinner. Sho seemed pretty excited by the idea.”

Thinking of how Sho likely reacted, round cheeks bulging with his dorkiest grin, made a laugh press past the heavy sag of Aiba's chest. “It’ll be good for you to feed him something that isn’t full of sugar for once.”

He caught a flash of Ohno’s teeth showing through his smile, eyes crinkled at the corners. It was a sight that he liked getting to witness. Any lingering pangs of envy still making their presence known were well worth that smile; worth knowing his friends had found happiness with each other.

“I’m glad the two of you are finally together.”

“It took us a while, didn’t it?”

“You’re too slow.”

Ohno laughed. “I think I was just waiting for the right timing.” He looked at Aiba, expression softening with thoughtfulness. “That’s always the tricky thing. Timing. But when it’s right…”

“You’ll know?” Aiba prompted.

“I don’t know about that,” he said with a slight shake of his head. “More like… it will happen? Somehow.”

Aiba could tell the last part was meant for him, even if “somehow” wasn’t the most reassuring of words. He shot Ohno a thankful smile anyway as he removed his apron and placed it on the counter. Whatever Ohno might have lacked in pretty phrasing was made up for by his thoughtful concern as a friend. The sentiment counted far more than the meaning.

~

The distance between Ohno’s store and Aiba’s apartment was short. Two right turns and one left, a brief detour through a narrow alleyway and a stroll down a street of near-identical buildings. That was the quickest way, in any case—Aiba didn’t tend to stick to the same route more than two days in a row. Sometimes he’d stop by the old house at the other end of the street and chat to the grandma who always sat out on her front porch, or detour through the park with the kids who liked to show him their new games.

He took the direct route that afternoon. It wasn’t long enough for him to consider all of the thoughts brimming in his mind after his conversation with Ohno, but there was just enough time for him to get lost in one. The steady beat of his footsteps as they carried him home lulled him into a trance where his surroundings were nothing more than a blur compared to the vivid images of different kinds of smiles he thought of wanting to see again.

He paid the price for his lack of awareness when he looked up only a few steps away from his building and saw a man standing on the stairs outside. The short sleeves of his white shirt drew attention to solid biceps straining above where he leant against side railing, affecting a casual pose that contrasted the intensity in his eyes. Aiba slowed under the direct stare turned his way. He felt strange prickles along his spine, as if his body was transmitting a name in morse code on repeat.

_Jun._

“Hi,” said Jun with a small nod once Aiba had stopped in front of him.

He didn’t know what to say.

Jun pushed his body off the railing and stepped onto the pavement.

“You know, you never told me you were such a celebrity,” he said, one eye closing in a squint against the sun. “I went asking around town for you because I figured you’d be out on your deliveries. Everyone I talked to knew who you were. Just not where you’d be.”

“I only make deliveries in the morning.” Aiba's voice sounded foreign to his ears.

Jun nodded. “I found that out eventually. That’s why I came here.”

It was too surreal. There was no way that Jun was really there on his doorstep, talking to him as if the awkward parting of before had never occurred. Not after Aiba had convinced himself their brief entanglement was just that: brief. Finished. He must have fallen asleep in the back of Ohno’s store—this felt as though it could be one of his dreams.

“Why?” he asked.

If he was, in fact, dreaming, Jun wouldn’t give him a sensible answer. He would take hold of Aiba’s hand and tug him close, whispering a ludicrous line straight out of one of the racy stories Aiba sometimes read in the magazines he borrowed from Sho. There would be no chance for Aiba to figure out a response before their surrounding scenery shifted to Aiba’s bedroom and the feeling of fingers on his skin overwhelmed him, pressing him firm against the mattress.

Aiba’s dreams usually turned suggestive very quickly.

Instead, Jun tilted his head, teeth tugging at his bottom lip for a second. “You mentioned wanting to take me somewhere. Before…”

He paused, eyes flitting over Aiba’s face. The flash of nervous uncertainty that appeared as he met Aiba’s gaze once more let Aiba know this was real.

“Can we go now?” Jun asked.

This wasn’t the way the encounter was supposed to go. Jun was supposed to apologise; he would explain that how things ended before was all a big misunderstanding. They would laugh it off, go upstairs to Aiba’s apartment for a drink, and have a repeat of the amazing sex Aiba hadn’t stopped fantasising about. This time, with a definitive promise of future encounters.

Jun offered nothing of the sort. Aiba found himself nodding at Jun, and he led the way up to the roof of his building.

Sunset wasn’t Aiba's favourite time to fly. Night always seemed to fall before he was ready for it, and there were too many other aircraft out in the skies he had to navigate around. Worse than that, he struggled to see the colours at this hour, with the dimming light and the exhaustion creeping through his bones. Flying felt lonely without them.

That feeling wasn’t helped any by Jun’s silent presence beside him. Aiba was still yet to find his words, and his leg bounced restlessly with the growing tension between them.

Jun placed a hand on his thigh to steady him before thinking better of it and pulling away.

The reaction Aiba felt at the touch told him all he needed to know.

He managed to land at their destination before the sun dipped behind the mountains. Pinks and oranges filtered past thin streams of clouds and left interesting patterns on the water below them, glittering with the rolling waves.

“You get a perfect view of the ocean from here,” Aiba said as he walked towards the edge of the cliff face they were on. It was the one spot he’d found that overlooked the ocean and had enough space for him to safely land. He’d never seen anyone else around the times he’d been there, so he liked to think the spot was his alone.

A hand grabbed his own before he got too far.

“Be careful,” Jun said.

Aiba looked back at him over his shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ve done this before.”

“Right.”

Jun’s grip loosened, but he left his hand curled around Aiba’s. Aiba slid his fingers through the gaps, keeping their hands dangling in a light hold as he stepped closer to the edge of the cliff. An inconstant wind surrounded them. It built into a crescendo, pulling the moisture from his lips and forcing a shiver down his arms, and all he thought about was keeping himself steady enough so not to break the touch that joined them.

Jun showed less regard for his own safety than he had for Aiba’s. There was no hesitation in his steps as he moved forward, inching out further past where Aiba stopped to gain a better look.

“You really can see everything up here.”

What Aiba could see was Jun’s face in profile, marked with concentration. The setting sun drew shadows under his eyes and the wind tugged the thick curls of his hair into tangles around his forehead.

“It’s nice, right?”

Jun looked at him. “Isn’t it still nicer when you fly? You can go anywhere, see anything.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know, it’s like, I love flying, but I also need somewhere I can just… stop. Think. Sometimes I worry that if I’m always moving, then my mind won’t have a chance to catch up. Like I’ll miss something.”

His words caused a frown to press onto Jun’s face and Aiba tried to decipher what it meant.

“You think that sounds silly.”

“No.” Jun was still frowning. “Not at all.”

Their fingers were still laced together where they stood, side-by-side, facing the ocean as they conversed. Jun’s palm shifted against his and Aiba thought he was about to pull away, but then he felt the press of fingertips on the back of his hand.

There was something secure about the way Jun’s hand clutched his.

“I like it here,” Jun said. “I like being back in the city. It’s my home and I miss it. I don’t think I realised how much I did until that morning I spent with you last week." He paused, lips curling with hesitation before continuing. "The past week away has been… difficult.” Jun's gaze travelled to meet Aiba’s and Aiba's breath caught in his throat. “I’m not sure how much of that was because of the city, and how much was because of you.”

Aiba flushed. It was hard to think straight when Jun was so straightforward. “Where’s your home now?” he asked.

“The palace.”

It took a moment for Aiba to comprehend. To him, the palace was the old, run-down building at the edge of the city’s second district: a monument which had been barely preserved. It was haunted, or so the rumours proclaimed, ever since the royal family had been slaughtered within its walls during a rebellion centuries prior. They used to sneak inside the walls as children and run through the dilapidated gardens in a test of courage. Aiba never ventured far.

Then he realised: _that_ palace. The estate where the current royal family resided, having relocated away from the city after those tragic events of long ago. He never had much cause to think about the royal family. Their status was largely symbolic these days, and petty court politics that were so far removed from his day-to-day life held little interest to him.

He had once been curious enough to fly south to see the new palace. The journey took him over two hours each way. He knew it must take Jun even longer than that to travel by train or by car.

Jun's mouth twisted into a wry smile. “As you can probably imagine, it makes things impossible.” he said. “I leave sometimes, like I did today and last week, but I’m mostly there. It’s where my life is. Trying to have a relationship with that kind of distance in the way… it doesn’t work.”

He spoke those words with such authority that Aiba had to assume he had experience with the matter. It was the only reason Aiba didn’t jump to challenge him. That and the fact that their acquaintance had been too short for Aiba to know whether he had any grounds for questioning Jun’s belief. But Aiba wasn’t someone who believed in impossibilities.

Jun’s hand was still entwined with his.

“You still do travel though, right?” Aiba said, curling his fingers closer. “You can make the trip here sometimes?”

“Yes.”

“Then come. Visit me when you can and I’ll show you what you’ve been missing out on while you’ve been gone.” At Jun’s apprehensive look, Aiba smiled. “I think we should be friends, at least. It was fun getting to take you out with me on my deliveries before… I don’t see why we shouldn’t do it again. If you want.”

A short pause followed. “Friends?”

Aiba nodded. It was a truthful statement; it wasn’t meant as a pretence to push for anything unwanted. He hoped Jun trusted him.

After a moment, Jun squeezed his hand and let go.

“I’d like that.”

~

Spring passed. With the approach of summer, the city gained new life, showing vibrant hues of greens, pinks, oranges from the flowers freshly blooming around every corner and buzzing with a constant hustle of activity as people prepared for the June festival.

Each year tended to pass by much the same, but this spring was different to Aiba with the addition of Jun. He came to the city to visit Aiba just as he said he would. Inconsistently, and with less frequency than Aiba would have preferred, but always with a promise of a next time.

Aiba introduced Jun to his favourite springtime traditions. Walking along the street holding the oldest trees in the city, majestic beauties lining either side, with a bed of pale, purple petals under their feet. Chatting with shopkeepers in the market district about their festival preparations for that year: sharing their difficulties and the latest local gossip and endless predictions about the weather. Buying the seasonal specialty cakes from Ohno’s store to eat on a nearby bridge over the river, with the sun setting in a warm glow behind their backs.

He learned a lot about Jun during this time. On their dates that weren’t really dates but still left a quivery feeling in his stomach, a flush of excitement and hope when they happened to touch.

Jun was inquisitive by nature. He always wanted to talk to the people they met, asking as many questions he could think of. He liked learning new things, and he especially liked receiving praise and compliments, whether from the marketplace aunties who cooed over his handsome face or the old men in the park who coaxed him to join their games.

He also liked to give as much as he liked to receive. Honest words of admiration wove their way in between playful mockery, causing Aiba's stomach to flip and his words to become tangled with the sudden change. It was simpler when Jun stuck to talking about topics he found interesting, which Aiba soon discovered were both varied and often unexpected. He was always so passionate in those moments; Jun spoke as if he needed Aiba to share the same knowledge and fascination he possessed.

“Some people don't know how to tell the difference between cherry blossoms and plum blossoms,” he told Aiba as they walked through the park full of trees of pink and white, in the tone Aiba had come to recognise signified a lecture was forthcoming. “It's not actually that difficult if you know what to look for. Plum blossom petals are usually rounder and cherry blossoms have a small split on the end. See, look at that branch over there—”

Jun stopped with his arm extended and turned to Aiba. “Are you listening?”

“Of course!” Aiba pulled his gaze away from a trail of golden mist that had caught his eye, lips clamping shut as he swallowed his guilty smile. “Different petals, I got it.” He paused, head tilting. “But can’t you just tell by what month it is, anyway?”

Aiba probably should have predicted the impatient frown that appeared at his question. It wasn’t the first time he’d managed to exasperate Jun, but Jun never held onto his frustration long. Aiba could see the exact moment his frown softened into a hopeless smile, lines between his eyebrows disappearing as new ones appeared at the corners of his eyes.

Jun's face still showed all of his feelings openly. Every glimmer of delight when Aiba showed him something particularly interesting, every flash of irritation when they found themselves entangled in a troublesome situation. Aiba found it increasingly difficult during those months they spent together not to watch him constantly, to gauge his changing moods and record each expressive shift.

What Aiba didn’t learn was whether Jun wanted anything more from their blossoming friendship. If he trusted the honesty of Jun’s face—the fond smiles, the teasing glances, the glimpses of naked desire—then he could believe he did. And yet, Jun never pressed further than faintly suggestive looks and touches. Not when Aiba tripped and an arm immediately wrapped around his waist, pulling them close together. Not when Aiba got tired of holding himself back and he reached out to take a firm grip of Jun’s hand as he pulled him through winding alleyways, in search of another object lost. And never when they said their farewells, staring at each other for far longer than necessary, before one of them finally remembered to break away.

Sometimes Aiba thought Jun was just lonely enough to want companionship more than anything else.

“You should meet my friends,” he said to Jun one evening when they were sitting on the bank by the river, months after they’d first met.

He’d been considering making the suggestion for a while. As much as Aiba enjoyed spending time with Jun, building their relationship with no one else to distract, there was still the low-burning need in the pit of his stomach to move Jun firmly into a place of immovable significance. For Aiba, that meant he didn’t want to continue keeping their encounters so removed from the other parts of his life; as if they were a secret or only a temporary distraction. Jun was becoming too important for that.

There was no immediate response from Jun at Aiba’s suggestion. His head was bent down over a simple puzzle he’d purchased from one of the local street traders they’d wandered past after their dinner. Aiba found it amusing to watch his eyebrows draw closer together as he tugged at the interlocking metal rings, face twitching with every failed attempt to separate them.

“Your friends?” said Jun with a frown Aiba hoped was directed at the puzzle.

“You’d like them; they’re good people. And they’ve been wanting to meet you.”

“You talk about me to them?”

“A bit.”

Long fingers shifted their grip on the puzzle, changing the angle of the metal rings, and Jun slowly slid them away from each other. They broke apart.

“Sure,” he said, looking at Aiba now his puzzle had been solved. “Sounds good.”

Aiba took the pieces of the puzzle from Jun’s hand and examined them for a moment. Both parts were identical.

He handed one piece back to Jun and pocketed the other. “How about Sunday afternoon? Come to the patisserie where I work—you know, the one I met you at before. After we close at four.”

“Cake and coffee with Ohno and Sho?” Jun said. Though he’d never met Aiba’s friends beyond the distant interaction with Nino and Toma at the bar, Aiba brought them all up in conversation enough for Jun to be able to speak of them with familiarity.

Aiba beamed at him. “That’s right! You said you liked what I gave you from there before.”

“I did. I wish we had someone as good as Ohno at the palace.”

“See, you should tell him that.”

Jun’s bottom lip curled over his teeth, the way it did when he was considering something carefully. “Okay,” he said. “Not this Sunday, but the next. I’ll be there.”

“It’s a date!” Aiba froze. “I mean, um… you know.”

Jun placed his hand on top of Aiba’s and smiled. “It’s a date.”

~

Aiba only mentioned Jun’s possible visit to Ohno and Sho, but Nino was there as well the Sunday he was due to arrive. “I’m here for the free cake that I was promised,” he said when Aiba saw him slink inside just before closing and prop himself up on one of the patisserie’s few available chairs.

“He’s being nosy,” Sho whispered loudly to Aiba as he walked past on his way to join Nino. “I think he’s worried about you.”

Nino grunted and avoided Aiba’s questioning glance.

Waiting for Jun to arrive had Aiba almost vibrating out of his skin. He’d consumed too much coffee without thinking throughout the afternoon, watching the hands of the clock tick slowly by, and the caffeine caused his thoughts to bounce around his skull in a muddled mess. At one point, Ohno stilled him with a hand to his shoulder and wordlessly took the tongs in his hand, replacing them with a powder blue macaron.

The macaron settled him for only a short while. As soon as Jun walked through the front entrance, tentative smile unfurling with genuine pleasure as their eyes met, all of the nerves in Aiba’s body sparked alight once more.

He almost tripped over the edge of the counter in his rush to meet Jun.

“You made it!” he said, rubbing the side of his hip where he banged it against the counter.

Jun frowned and pressed three fingers to the top of Aiba’s arm with gentle concern. “You should be more careful.”

“I’m fine.” Aiba smiled. “You’re here.”

An impolite cough interrupted the moment.

“Hi,” Nino said, with a small wave of his fingers from the table behind them. “Remember me?”

Jun cocked an eyebrow. “How could I forget? I don’t think I’ve ever been looked over so… thoroughly before. Or scathingly. It was a bit of a shock coming from someone I’d never seen before.”

Aiba whirled around on the spot. “Nino!”

“I’m willing to let the past be the past,” Nino said, ignoring Aiba. “Let’s start over.”

“That’s very generous of you.” Despite Aiba’s worries, Jun didn’t appear bothered by Nino’s attitude. His eyes twinkled as they sized each other up. “I hope I can make a better impression this time.”

Aiba could tell that Jun was trying for that better impression when he moved to the table for proper introductions. He recalled tidbits he’d learned from Aiba about his friends with ease, using them to bridge the gap that separated old friends from their new acquaintance. Aiba didn’t even remember mentioning half of what Jun referenced, but he wasn’t surprised. Jun was always a good listener.

Sho was the easiest to charm with such tactics. It didn’t take long for them to fall into a short but intense discussion about the healthcare reform policy Sho was working on. Aiba followed little of what they said, but he didn’t miss the approving smile Sho shot his way.

“So what exactly is it that you do, Jun?” Sho asked as he passed over a piece of the pistachio and balsamic strawberry cake Ohno brought to the table. “Aiba never said—just that you don’t work here in the city.”

“He didn’t?” Jun said, glancing across at Aiba.

Aiba shrugged. Considering how reluctant Jun had been to divulge his place of employment when they first met, he hadn’t been sure whether it was supposed to remain under wraps. Matters of the palace were still too much of an unknown to him to feel comfortable.

“What, is it some big secret?” Nino said. “You’re not a spy, are you?”

“No, nothing like that.” Jun cut a piece of cake with his fork and lifted it to his mouth. The first taste had his face relaxing into an expression of bliss, eyes falling shut as he savoured it. “So light.” He opened his eyes and looked at Ohno. “You’re very talented. If you had a store nearer to me, I wouldn’t be able to keep away.”

Ohno smiled. “And where is that?”

“The palace.”

A small wave of surprise rippled around the room. Aiba bit his lip and snuck a glance at Jun. He was steadfastly ignoring everyone’s reactions, eyes down as he ate more of his cake.

“The palace,” said Sho. “So, you work there?”

Jun nodded.

Until that point, Nino had remained slumped back in his seat, only partly giving his attention to the conversation around him as he scribbled notes for a project he was working on under the table. With Jun’s revelation, he sat up straight, notepad forgotten as his eyes shined with new light.

“Really?” he said. “That’s certainly interesting. You should invite us there for a tour sometime.”

Sho made the connection first. His brow creased at Nino’s unexpected request—it wasn’t exactly like him to want to leave the city—before triumphant realisation flashed through his eyes and he snorted. “You’re so transparent.”

“I don’t know what you could possibly mean.”

Sho stared at him pointedly before turning to Jun. “He’s thinking that if you work at the palace, it means he has a shot at meeting Takeuchi Yuko.”

“Oh. _Her_.” Aiba’s eyes widened and he giggled. “You always had such an embarrassing crush.”

“It’s not a crush! I respect her professionally.”

“Who’s Takeuchi Yuko?” asked Ohno.

“One of the most powerful workers of enchantments in the country,” explained Sho. “She works directly for the Queen. At the palace.”

He glanced back at Jun, not hiding the curiosity in his eyes.

Jun swallowed. “I don’t know her that well.” He poked at the side of his cake with his fork. “We don’t really cross paths much.”

Noting Jun’s growing discomfort, Aiba decided it was time for him to intervene. He pushed back his chair with a noisy scrape along the floor that cut off Sho’s attempt at a follow-up question, and whisked away the plate in front of Jun.

“Hey,” Jun said with a frown. “I wasn’t finished.”

“You can’t make yourself full before you get to try one of mine.”

Aiba moved to the counter where the selection of treats that Ohno had set aside for them were laid out. There was a particular cake that he wanted Jun to try, and he was pleased to see that Ohno hadn’t forgotten it.

“You make things too?”

“I help with ideas,” Aiba replied, returning to place Jun’s plate on the table. “Ohno does all of the actual baking and stuff. This is something we worked on today—if you like it, then maybe we can add it to the menu as a special item.”

Jun peered at the cake in front of him. It was innocuous at first glance: a spherical dome covered by a dusting of dark cocoa powder. Aiba knew too well that looks were deceiving. The creation wasn’t exactly a new one: Ohno had made many variations of it before. Layers of rich, chocolate ganache coated airy, vanilla sponge and hid a surprise filling in the centre that was designed to bewilder and delight at first bite.

Aiba liked coming up with the ideas for the filling.

“Why do I feel like I’m being used as a test subject?”

“Because you are,” said Nino. “I wouldn’t stand for it, if I were you. No way should you trust Aiba with something like this.”

Aiba swatted the side of his arm and shot Jun an appeasing look. “It’s fine! Ohno said it was good.”

“Ohno said the mapo tofu cake was good,” Nino muttered.

Aiba didn’t respond to him that time. He was staring at Jun, waiting for his response. After a long moment, Jun broke the stare, eyes flitting around the table. His lips pursed slightly as he glanced at the others, but he still reached to pick up his fork.

“Wait!” Aiba leaned across to snatch the fork from his hand. “If you cut into it first, you’ll see what’s inside. I want it to be a surprise.”

Jun frowned.

“Please? Just… close your eyes. I promise it’s nothing too weird.”

Aiba was aware that the stares of the others were starting to make Jun feel uncomfortable. He reached his free hand under the table to find Jun’s fingers and gave them a small squeeze. “I promise.”

Jun nodded. “Okay.” His eyes fell shut and he opened his mouth, just enough for a sliver of cake to pass through his teeth.

A soft snicker passed from somewhere behind him when Aiba cut into the cake, revealing the secret in its centre. He tightened his grip on Jun’s hand, keeping the hold firm with reassurance as he lifted the fork to his mouth.

Jun’s lips closed over the metal. It was a good thing that Aiba wasn’t able to forget the three pairs of eyes watching them, or the image would have proven to be dangerous. He dragged his gaze up Jun’s face and focused on the twitch of his eyelids while he chewed, not giving any immediate reaction to what he was tasting.

Thick eyebrows drew together, causing vertical lines to appear in the space between them. Aiba held his breath.

Jun opened his eyes. “Is there _natto_ in this?”

“Maybe.” Aiba was leaning a little too close but he didn’t pull back. “How does it taste?”

An uncertain tug of Jun’s eyebrows followed. His face shifted through a vivid show of hesitant deliberation until eventually his lips stretched outwards into a helpless smile. “It’s good,” he admitted. Aiba beamed at him.

“Seriously?” Nino said at the same time as Sho declared he also wanted to try the cake. From there, the table erupted into a discussion of Aiba’s past experiments, regaling Jun with details of his various exploits. Some of the anecdotes shared brought the kind of embarrassment only old friends could give, but each time Aiba wanted to put an end to any of them, he was held back by the warmth of Jun’s amused laughter.

Jun’s hand under the table moved to return Aiba’s initial grip for the rest of the conversation.

As the light filtering through the windows began to dim with the arrival of evening, the group abandoned their afternoon tea for drinks and dinner upstairs in Ohno’s flat. Impromptu meals were often the best kind. Aiba and Ohno divested Ohno’s fridge of its contents, coming up with ideas for meals that could be cooked with the miscellany of ingredients whilst Sho and Nino ducked out to purchase beer. They were soon joined by Jun, who demonstrated he was in possession of many strong opinions backed by a thorough understanding of cooking.

It was a new side of him Aiba was able to discover. He decided he would have to take Jun to his apartment on one of his future visits, so they could cook together without the limitation of disparate ingredients.

Over the course of the evening, Jun found a place for himself within their group’s established dynamic as if he belonged. He helped Ohno in the kitchen, talked to Sho about politics, watched Nino’s demonstrations of some of his minor enchantments. All with attentiveness and genuine interest that made Aiba smile every time he looked over to check how Jun was faring.

More often than not, Jun caught his eyes and returned the smile.

“That was okay, wasn’t it?” Aiba asked Jun on their way to the station after they left Ohno’s apartment.

Jun nodded. “It was. It’s funny—everyone was so much like how you described that I felt like I knew them already. It was nice. Your friends are nice.”

“Even Nino?”

A short laugh echoed through the quiet street. “Nino…”

“Don’t mind him,” Aiba said. “You can always ignore him if you like. That’s what I do.”

“I don’t. Mind Nino, I mean. I think I might like him, actually.” Jun looked at him. “We had a bit of a chat while you were cleaning up.”

Aiba flushed, despite not knowing why.

“Should’ve had Toma there instead,” he mumbled.

“Toma’s the smiley one?” At his puzzled look, Jun clarified: “At the bar that time. The other guy who was with you and Nino.”

He nodded, pulse jumping. The night at the bar and the events which followed remained a tricky topic in their nicely constructed friendship. They’d both skirted any mention of it at first, but at some point, reminders of what occurred began to drip into the casual teasing and innuendoes that passed between them with no action taken. Any actual serious discussion was still avoided. Even as the connection between them shifted, stirring into something stronger than the sparks that had pushed them into bed together all those months ago, Aiba was wary of doing anything to destroy the balance that kept Jun in his life.

The moment then might have been the perfect chance to alter the status quo. Aiba instead opted for comfortable silence as they continued walking.

The train Jun was to catch was waiting at the platform when they arrived. Jun’s footsteps slowed and Aiba glanced at the station clock. There were still a few minutes until it was due to depart. That meant enough time for proper goodbyes, and to secure a promise for their next meeting.

Jun stopped in front of the open doors of one of the carriages and turned to face him.

“I was thinking,” he said. “You introduced me to an important part of your life today. I want to do the same.”

Aiba caught his meaning quickly.

“You… the palace?”

“I don’t actually spend much time inside the palace proper,” said Jun. “Sorry to disappoint. I have my own place on the grounds outside the main building.”

“For your work?”

“For my work,” confirmed Jun. His smile faded at the corners. “I know I haven’t been forthcoming about what I do… it’s not that I’ve wanted to be secretive, it’s just a habit. I’m sure by this point you’ve been picturing something dramatic, but it’s not really at all.”

He said the last bit like a tease, a sharp, knowing glint appearing in his eyes. Aiba tried to look nonchalant, as if he hadn’t come up with an increasingly wild list of possibilities as to the reasons for Jun’s secretive behaviour.

“I’d rather show you than explain,” Jun said.

“Show me?” Aiba glanced at the station clock, showing the late hour. “Now?”

“Not now,” Jun clarified. “It’s too late and evenings aren’t the best time. But if there’s a day that you’re free? Before it turns dark.”

Aiba’s free day was Monday—tomorrow. He told Jun as much, and Jun’s eyes brightened for a second before he winced.

“I can’t do tomorrow. I’d like to, but… is the following Monday okay?”

A week was too long to wait when Aiba had the last of Jun’s secrets within reach. Second last, he corrected himself. Though it seemed to him, looking at Jun in that moment, the other secret would not remain so much longer.

There was no time left to figure out an alternative plan. A loud whistle sounded along the platform to warn of the train’s imminent departure.

Jun reached out a hand to clasp Aiba’s arm above the elbow. His fingers were warm and firm against Aiba’s skin as he told him a location and a time to meet, not moving until Aiba responded with a nod. Even then, Jun hesitated. There was an unspoken awareness hanging between them of what could happen next. Of what they both wanted.

It wasn’t the right moment for anything to occur.

Long after Aiba left the station, the feeling of Jun’s hand around his arm lingered; as did the memory of the way Jun’s face looked when he glanced back at Aiba before the train’s doors shut. It took him a long time to fall asleep that night.

~

Though Aiba was supposed to meet Jun at the station near the palace, he chose to fly rather than catch a train. He liked trains—they reminded him of summer vacations with his family, watching the changing scenery with his brother curled up on the seat beside him—but for a solo journey he knew would be filled with building nervousness, he wanted the comfort of flight.

It had been too long since he’d left the city. Aiba was torn between his need to reach his destination promptly, regardless of whether Jun would be there as soon as he arrived, and the desire to go slow enough to appreciate the picture before him. The transition from spring to summer left the fields he passed lush with greenery shining brightly under clear, sunny skies. Aiba kept a path that skirted the ocean, so he could see the sparkle of deep blue waves guiding him along and feel the gentle stroke of a breeze against his face.

A two hour trip was too long for him to make without needing to stretch his legs and he stopped midway through at a tiny seaside town just beginning to wake. He’d never been to the town before—he wasn’t even sure of its name—but the scent of salt called out to him and there was space for him to land right near a long, wooden pier stretched over the water.

Aiba found a spot on the edge of the pier to sit and removed his shoes. The tide was high enough for the water to lick the soles of his feet as he dangled his legs, its temperature icy but refreshing. He reached for his bag beside him and pulled out the cardboard box that Ohno had made him pick up from kitchen of _Patisserie S_ before he left that morning. Inside was an assortment of colourful macarons, neatly arranged, and a small notecard with a sketch of a rather haughty-looking cat.

Aiba flipped the card over and saw the same cat, drawn with a happier expression, accompanied by a dog wagging its tail.

He grinned and set the drawing aside before selecting a berry flavoured macaron from the box. There was something different about Ohno’s macarons ever since he started dating Sho. Aiba still felt the same calming sensation that made them a signature item, but with a stronger warmth that wrapped around his bones and lingered in his fingertips. Many of their customers had remarked on the change, sometimes with an additional enquiry as to Sho’s whereabouts—news travelled fast in their area of town. None complained.

He was just considering the merits of a second macaron when he felt a small prick behind his temple. Aiba had learned to ignore such calls to attention over the years, but he also knew how to tell the difference between the subtle vibrations that came to him throughout the course of an ordinary day and the tug of something important. The second prick that he felt was definitely more of a tug.

Shoving the box back in his bag, he jumped to his feet, only just remembering his shoes before he walked away. He let his intuition guide his path until a faint tendril of lavender appeared in his vision, unfurling like smoke.

It led him away from the water, to a small cafe tucked away between clusters of other shops. A woman behind the counter greeted him cheerfully when he stepped inside and Aiba responded in turn, but his attention was focused on a display of handmade rings in front of the register. Each was unique: made of delicate silver in different designs, some dotted with tiny gemstones whilst others were simpler.

His hand was immediately drawn to one hanging on the bottom row of the display. The way the metal twisted in two overlapping bands reminded him of the puzzle Jun bought; the one he still kept part of on his dresser next to the potion Jun gave him the first time they met.

“After a coffee today?” he heard the woman ask over the noise of the espresso machine.

Aiba glanced up from his inspection of the rings. “Actually, I was just looking at these.”

“Beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Do you make them yourself?”

“No, my partner does.” The woman’s smile softened with obvious fondness. “She travelled south earlier this year to work under a master craftsman. Every month she sends me a few things she’s made.”

Aiba hummed as his eyes swept over the display. Eleven rings there and unknown number already sold likely added up to many months. “You don’t want to keep them for yourself?” he asked

“Only the one she made for me.” She held up her left hand bearing a simple band on one finger for him to see. “The rest I sell here. I’m saving up for a trip, you see.”

His gaze returned to the ring he’d been considering, noting the price marked next to it. It was more than he would usually spend without good reason.

The woman beamed and brought out a small, cloth bag from under the counter when Aiba placed the ring next to the register. “Excellent choice,” she said. “For yourself?”

He considered her question as he reached for the bag, feeling the shape of the ring through the material. “I don’t think so,” he said.

Aiba had expected to feel a new tug to his senses when he stepped back out of the cafe, ring in hand. There was nothing. He removed the ring from its cloth bag and rested it on his palm, seeing the silver glint in the sunlight. Tiny puffs of purple mist circled around the curved edges, but made no movement to spread away. The ring was where it belonged.

Though Aiba liked the ring, it wasn’t something he could picture himself wearing. There was, however, a person who came to mind when he thought of who it might better suit.

Feeling even more eager to reach Jun, he slipped the ring into his pocket and hurried back to his aircraft. The sun had arrived in its total glory, bringing too much heat for Aiba to need a scarf, but he still slipped his around his neck before taking off. Familiar floral notes washed over him, mingling with the scent of sea breeze, and Aiba flew.

~

He ended up reaching the station half an hour early. Trying to find a means to delay further seemed pointless, so he landed in a wide parking area and walked to the fountain in front of the station where Jun had told him they would meet.

Jun was already there when he arrived, despite the early hour. His hair was unruly over his forehead and his face was turned down, eyes bleary with sleep. Both of his hands clutched at a large cup of coffee resting in his lap.

He squinted when he saw Aiba approach with a wave. “You’re early,” he said.

The tone was a little brusque, but Aiba could make allowances for Jun’s morning mood. He smiled and said, “So are you!” with as much brightness as he could muster.

Sometimes the power of infectious cheer was the best way to prevent Jun from sulking.

Jun frowned. “I wanted time to make sure I’d wake up properly before you got here. You’re not catching me at my best.”

He looked so unhappy that Aiba wanted to laugh, or maybe kiss the pout off his face, or both.

“Doesn’t bother me,” Aiba said, holding out a hand to pull Jun up from his perch on the edge of the fountain. “I’ve already experienced the Matsujun early morning grumpiness in full.”

Jun rose with Aiba’s encouragement, stepping into his space. “I remember you being good at curing it,” he said, close enough for Aiba to smell the coffee on his breath.

He wasn’t expecting the unfiltered comment, but Aiba was happy to play along. “I don’t think I could do that again right now without breaking some kind of public indecency laws.”

A smile cracked its way onto Jun’s face. “Too bad.”

There wasn't time for Aiba to figure out a way to respond before Jun turned away as if he'd said nothing at all.

~

After confirming Aiba was fine to leave his aircraft in the parking lot, Jun led him to the car he'd brought with him to the station. The drive to the palace was long enough for Aiba’s tension to increase, stomach fluttering at the anticipation of what was to come and at his awareness of Jun right beside him. Once the palace came into view, curved rooftops showing stately elegance above the trees, Aiba struggled to sit still.

They passed through the first entrance to the palace estate with little trouble. Jun turned off the main driveway onto a narrower road that curved around to the far side of the wall acting as a second barrier. A locked gate prevented unwanted visitors from going further, but they were promptly waved through by a man guarding it once he recognised Jun in the driver’s seat.

“Always such a pain,” said Jun. “Sometimes there’s no one here when I arrive and I have to wait like an idiot.”

Aiba grinned. “So impatient.”

“I don’t like pointless inefficiency. Unfortunately, there can be a lot of it here.”

There was nothing much Aiba could think of to say in response, so he acknowledged Jun's comment with a nod and returned to looking outside of the car.

Jun stayed quiet for a bit as they drove slowly down the road before adding, “I’m not always impatient.”

The statement felt thick with implication. Aiba glanced over at Jun, noting his eyes locked steady on the road in front and the press of his lips revealing little. Silence prevailed. For want of something to do, Aiba smoothed his hand over his pant leg, counting the creases that bunched under his fingertips. _Four_. Four creases, denoting four months of knowing Jun.

He turned his gaze to the window.

Dense trees lined their path as they travelled further inside the grounds, preventing Aiba from observing much of the grounds beyond. His anticipation grew with every slow second that passed, trying to catch any glimpse of what lay ahead. A brief thought occurred to him that it was Jun who was now returning the gift of surprise. Aiba found it somehow fitting.

“Almost there,” Jun said, as if reading Aiba’s mood. Likely, he could, and not simply because Aiba lacked subtlety.

He noticed the house first. A small, one story building that stood alone. Except, not quite. Right behind it, so large that Aiba wondered how he’d not managed to see it until now, was a modern-looking structure made of rounded glass panes fitted between wrought iron. Though Aiba had never seen one quite like this before, he knew what it was: a greenhouse.

“This is it?” Aiba asked, gaze fixed outside the car window. “This is where you work? The greenhouse?”

He’d heard of it before: one of the treasures of the royal family’s new estate. Commissioned to be built decades ago, taking years of work and great expense. It wasn’t open to the public, so few had seen the full extent of what lay inside, but rumours spoke of its lavish beauty.

“I hope you’re not disappointed,” said Jun as he pulled the car to a stop.

Aiba was already opening his door, clambering out to bound towards the greenhouse before Jun even had a chance to catch up.

“Hold on a second,” Jun called from behind him with a laugh. “I have to let you inside. It’s locked.”

The sound of footsteps crunching grass told Aiba that Jun was jogging to reach him. He fell into stride with Aiba and brushed their shoulders together with the slightest nudge. “You don’t want to see the house first?”

Aiba glanced at him and lifted his eyebrows. “You expect to show me this and then make me wait?”

Jun’s eyes crinkled with his smile. “Not really.”

What Aiba first noticed when he stepped inside the greenhouse was the smell. A crisp, layered scent, reminding him of the potion Jun gave him but with more depth—rich soil and sharp leaves, subtle damp and sweet pollen. It wrapped around his throat and pressed against his tonsils, thick enough to taste.

He noticed the smell first because it took a moment for his eyes to find focus. There was too much to take in: vivid greenery covered the room in a lush display in front of him, a stunning variety of trees and flowers arranged around narrow paths. This was not a utilitarian collection of plants arranged in neat rows; it was more of a carefully crafted garden, like something Aiba might have seen in a picture book.

“Wow,” he said with a slow exhale. “It’s so… I don’t even know what to say.”

“Her Highness spent many years making sure it met her exact standards.” Jun nudged Aiba forward with a hand to his hip. “She’s always placed a high value on aesthetics.” There was a definite note of approval in his voice.

Aiba’s attention was diverted for a moment by the sight of a plant he’d never seen before. Long red buds like fingers sprouting green flowers at the tips; a fascinating inversion. “Imported,” Jun said from beside him. “Her Highness likes to collect foreign plants.”

Aiba ran a finger over the oddly furry texture of the flower's buds. A touch to his elbow had him drawing back. “I don’t think I get it,” he said, turning to face Jun. “Why a greenhouse and not just a garden?”

Jun shrugged. “There are certain advantages to a greenhouse. More control. It’s important for what we do.”

“What you do?” Aiba’s head tilted, nose scrunching. “Grow things?”

An amused smile quirked its way onto Jun’s lips. “Sort of.” He returned his hand to Aiba’s arm and Aiba found himself being pulled into Jun’s rhythm once more. “It’s easier if I show you.”

Jun led Aiba further down the path they were on before stopping before a dark green bush bursting with large, white flowers. Gardenias, Aiba’s mind supplied. He realised he only knew the correct name because Jun told him once before and then something clicked. All those times Jun lingered in front of trees and shrubs in bloom with a wistful look on his face signified more than an appreciation of their beauty; the endless spiels on different flower types weren’t because of one of his strange hobbies. Aiba wondered if he should have picked up on the hints before now.

Jun’s hand searched through the leaves of the gardenia bush until he found a bud yet to bloom. “Watch,” he said, as if Aiba was planning anything different. His fingers curled around the outside of the bud, creating a protective sphere with his hand, and he released a slow exhale that Aiba unconsciously mirrored.

When Nino worked his enchantments, the magic came with visible sparks at his fingertips: glitters of gold like small fireworks. Jun showed nothing of the sort. He was unmoving save for the steady rise and fall of his chest and the slight droop of his eyelids.

Under his hand, the white of unfurling petals appeared as the flower bloomed.

He moved his fingers to the stem and plucked it, turning to Aiba.

Aiba reached for the perfectly-shaped petals now in front of him, breathy exclamations of awe tumbling from his lips. Jun pulled the flower away before he could touch. “I haven’t finished yet.” He tipped the flower onto his other palm, covering it with his fingers once more. This time, Aiba could detect a heavy fragrance growing between them, almost intoxicating in its sweetness.

“You always do this?” Aiba asked.

Jun smiled. “I might be showing off a bit.” He removed the gardenia flower from his hold and shook away the fine powder coating his palm. “Mostly my work in here is a lot of monitoring. Otherwise, I’m out researching or developing new ways to use different plant compounds. In medicines and the like."

“Medicines? Like the potion you gave me?”

“Potions, salves, remedies. Perfumes, too.” Jun moved closer to Aiba and pressed the gardenia flower into his palm before turning them both in a new direction. “Come on. I’ll explain more as we walk. There’s still so much to see.”

There was much to see, so much that Aiba thought he could spend hours just trying to satiate his curiosity. They wandered along the winding paths as Jun pointed out anything he thought might be of interest, describing the special ways he found uses for the roots of burdock plants, the bark of eucommia trees, the leaves of camellia shrubs. Occasionally, Aiba’s attention drifted, and he would break away in the middle of one of Jun’s explanations to take a closer look at something that caught his eye. Jun never showed he minded. He waited patiently for Aiba with a small smile on his face, ready to answer any question he might have.

“It’s so beautiful here,” Aiba said, reaching up to brush the petals of a plum blossom flower with his fingers. “Peaceful. Why didn’t you show it to me before?”

A short silence followed his query. “I thought about it,” he heard Jun say behind him. “But I knew it was a bad idea.”

Aiba turned. Jun was staring at him, with a look in his eyes that made his heart jump into his throat.

“I knew that if I brought you to this place, I wouldn’t be able to help needing to kiss you.”

The declaration hung between them, suspended like the wisteria flowers on their branches above their heads. Aiba waited for Jun to do something, to follow up on his words.

He remained still, so it was Aiba who moved first. His legs felt as if they were disconnected from his body, moving of their own accord across the grass crunching below his feet. It was the only explanation for how they were able to carry him to Jun when his mind was still lagging behind, stuck in an unmoving stare filled with doubt.

Jun’s lips parted open. Aiba was close enough to see the shallow rise and fall of his chest, the slide of his Adam’s apple down his throat as he swallowed. He only stopped when they were toe-to-toe, eyes almost level, and he reached his hand out to curl around the curve of Jun’s shoulder: a mirror image of that first time they kissed. He could tell by the way Jun looked at him that he remembered it too. That he knew exactly what was about to happen and that he wanted it.

Aiba leaned in.

“Wait.” Jun drew his face back a fraction, before Aiba could close the gap. “I can’t do this to you.”

Aiba opened his mouth to voice a protest but the press of Jun’s fingers against his hip kept him still.

“I want… so much, I—” Jun’s mouth twisted with the difficulty of what he was trying to say, already forming an apology. Aiba smoothed his thumb over the ridge of a collarbone. He wanted to spread the rest of his hand flat against Jun’s chest to feel the pulse of heartbeats under his palm.

Waiting to hear Jun’s explanation made him hesitate.

“‘I’m not going to be able to see you for a while.”

The words came like the sharp pierce of a knife to Aiba’s skin. He blinked heavily, vision blurring as frustration crawled up his throat. All he could see when he regained focus on Jun was regret.

“The Queen… she’s sick,” continued Jun. “We don’t know what exactly is wrong, but her health has worsened dramatically in recent weeks. I’ve been spending all of my time lately working on a solution, and taking time off to visit like I have been isn’t going to be possible anymore.” He bit his lip. “I was supposed to tell you before now. I’m sorry.”

Aiba swallowed. “You really can’t—”

“I need to remain at the palace until matters have improved. It’s my duty.”

Of course. It was too much for him to expect any different: Jun wasn’t the type to abandon his work when he was needed, and Aiba did not wish him to be. Not really.

He thought back to the conversation he’d had with Ohno months ago, when the Jun he knew was only the smudged outline of the Jun in front of him. About "timing" and finding that perfect moment. The concept seemed so elusive to him, with Jun finally where he wanted but still too far away.

Jun’s eyes remained fixed on his. His mouth was close enough that Aiba could feel the faintest whisper of his breath fanning across his lips with every moment that passed.

Ohno might have been content to wait for matters to work out naturally, but Aiba was too impatient to be passive.

He kissed Jun then. It was slow and soft, his hand moving to cup Jun’s face as they pressed together. Jun tasted sweet; sweeter, even, than the scent of flowers that surrounded them. Aiba sought the warmth from his mouth he remembered from their first time together; that he felt every time he saw Jun’s smile.

For all that Jun had tried to stop the kiss before, he clutched Aiba’s arm tightly when he pulled away.

“I can’t lie and say I’m going to be fine with you gone,” Aiba said, and Jun’s shoulders tensed. “But I think that’s unavoidable, whatever happens now. You’re not going to break my heart more by letting me kiss you.”

Jun remained stiff for a second and then he sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you apologising because you don’t feel the same way?”

There was no hesitation when Jun replied, voice resolute. “No.”

“Then you don’t need to apologise.”

“I do.” Jun dropped his head for a second before looking back at Aiba, lips drawn in a thin line. “I’ve been stubborn. Stupid. I should’ve been honest about how I felt a long time ago, should’ve used all the time we had. Should’ve kissed you every time I wanted to.” His hand slid down the length of Aiba’s arm, thumb coming to rest on the inside of his wrist. “I’ve really made a mess of everything.”

“No you haven’t,” Aiba said, and pressed his fingers against the side of Jun’s face. “Don’t say that, okay? Just kiss me.”

It was Jun who moved first that time, drawing them together with a solid grip of his hand and a greedy press of his lips. Aiba tasted every regret and every wish he poured into the touch, until they no longer mattered; it was just the two of them together, the way they were supposed to be. He wasn’t going to think of anything beyond that.

His feet stumbled backwards until his shoulders met the solid trunk of a tree. Bark tugged his hair into knots as he leaned his head back to give Jun access to his neck, letting lips trace a path across exposed skin.

It did not take long for shirts to be untucked and unbuttoned with hands that were eager to touch. Aiba skimmed his fingers over defined ridges of muscle and snuck them under the waistband of Jun’s pants, slotting into the warm space beside the sharp line of a hipbone. He felt moans vibrating into his jaw as he moved south of Jun’s stomach, blunt nails scraping soft skin.

“Wait,” Jun said just as Aiba’s fingertips met short bristles of coarse hair.

He stilled, though it was hard to do when Jun couldn’t seem to pull himself away from his neck. “Too far?” he asked.

Jun drew back then with disbelief in his eyes. A short, breathy laugh burst from his mouth. “No, no… not too far, not even close.” He pressed his hips flush against Aiba, trapping his hand between their bodies. “Don’t want to stop, but we need to move. Away. Move first and then more touching.”

Aiba raised his free hand up to Jun’s hair and curled his fingers through the locks with a small tug. “Are you sure you can manage that?”

“Possibly,” Jun said. His lips captured Aiba’s in a soft kiss that ended too soon. “Can’t say I haven’t pictured you stretched out on the grass underneath me.” He kissed Aiba again. “Always thought green suited you.”

The image came clear to Aiba’s mind: Jun above him, pale skin bathed in sunlight, with a pretty backdrop of pink and purple flowers creating a striking contrast to the dark promise in his eyes. His cock twitched at the idea and he followed its direction to lean into Jun’s embrace.

Jun allowed the distraction of Aiba’s mouth on his for a little while before pushing him back with a hand to his chest and an emphatic look. “I’m not the only one who comes in here.” He took a step back, but his hand tightened on Aiba’s wrist. “Don’t want to share you with anyone else.”

Aiba found himself unceremoniously tugged forward as Jun turned around. He stumbled over his feet for the first few steps trying to keep up with Jun’s quick strides before he found a way to return to skin touching skin, hands on Jun’s torso and lips on his neck.

Jun stopped to push him against another tree. And again, against the greenhouse wall, before they made it to the door.

By the time they made it inside Jun’s house, Aiba’s pants were unbuttoned and threatening to slip off his hips. Jun helped them the rest of the way. His hands were impatient, tugging at the clothing preventing him from touching every inch of Aiba’s skin, almost ripping buttons and seams as he did. Aiba laughed into Jun’s hair when Jun attempted to shut the front door at the same time, failed attempts causing frustrated curses to spill against Aiba’s neck.

Those laughs turned into strangled moans with the feeling of a hand on his cock.

“I was supposed to go slow,” said Jun in between desperate kisses as he worked Aiba over with rough strokes. “Do this properly.”

“Slow is overrated,” replied Aiba, and he shoved his hand inside Jun’s pants.

Aiba had wanted Jun for too long to hold anything back. He reached his orgasm with startling speed and Jun was no better, slumping heavily against Aiba as he spilled into his hand. They gave themselves little reprieve before stumbling through the house, sticky hands pushing and pulling with playful need. First, into the shower, where Aiba took the opportunity to appreciate Jun’s naked form with fingers slipping through the water chasing lines down his frame. And then, into Jun’s bed, pressing damp skin together atop soft linen sheets.

Jun rolled them over to straddle Aiba from above. His hands held Aiba down against the mattress and he shifted upright, putting unwanted space between their bodies.

Aiba tried to follow, but he was stopped by a firm hand to his shoulder. “Just give me a minute,” Jun said, eyes serious. “Please.”

Aiba held Jun’s gaze and let himself relax back into the bed. He couldn’t argue with the view their position afforded him: Jun was stretched taut above him, broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, cock hardening against the flat panes of his stomach. There was no backdrop of greenery and flowers, but it was still better to get to see Jun this way for real, rather than to simply imagine it. Aiba’s imagination hadn’t been able to conjure the small details, such as the dark curls of hair stuck to Jun’s neck, or the shine of saliva on the centre of his lips after he licked them, glistening under the sunlight streaming through the windows.

Jun moved his fingers across Aiba’s skin to trace every line of his body. Slow, exploratory touches designed to feel and mark more than arouse. Aiba’s cock reacted anyhow, making its presence clearly known against Jun. He squirmed slightly when soft fingertips brushed over a particularly sensitive part of his stomach and surrendered a shaky gasp.

“I think that’s been a minute,” he said, raising a hand to Jun’s hip.

“I want to make sure I remember this.” Jun slid one hand along Aiba’s wrist and laced their fingers together. “Going to memorise every part of you.”

Aiba tightened his fingers against Jun’s hip. “There are other ways you can do that.”

Jun laughed and dropped forward, lips finding a place to rest on Aiba’s cheek. “And you called me impatient.”

He was in no rush as he pressed kisses to Aiba’s face. Full lips travelled across skin, marking every spot—the top of Aiba’s nose bridge, the dimple on his right cheek, a mole near his eye—and Aiba waited for their path to reach his own lips. He responded eagerly when they did, almost clashing teeth in his haste. He could feel Jun grinning against him.

When Jun pulled back, Aiba looked at him with a smile.

“I think we were both too patient for far too long.”

~

The feeling of a hand lightly shaking his shoulder woke Aiba from his sleep. He opened his eyes and saw Jun’s face hovering above him, full lips pouting only a breath away.

Aiba’s first instinct was to kiss them, so he did.

“This isn’t why I woke you,” Jun mumbled into Aiba's mouth, though he still slipped his tongue past Aiba’s lips. He chased Aiba back down onto the bed, hand pressing against his shoulder, and then pulled away. “I have to go out for a bit. Didn’t want you to wonder why I’d disappeared.”

Only a thin sheet covered Aiba’s body from the waist down. The hand on Aiba’s shoulder slid across his bare skin to rest against the side of his ribcage. He thought about trapping it there.

“Go back to sleep,” Jun said with a light tap of his fingers. “I won’t be long.”

Aiba might have tried to barter for a few minutes more spent kissing, but he’d barely slept the previous night and his exhaustion curled in a tight hold around him. The last thing he registered before falling back into a dreamless sleep was Jun’s fingers brushing away the hair off his forehead.

He next woke to the smell of onions frying. It made him think he was back home at his parents’ house for a moment before he opened his eyes and saw the crisp, white walls of Jun’s bedroom, reminding him whose bed he was in. Aiba pushed himself upright, wiping away a spot of drool on the corner of his mouth. The movement brought an aching protest of his well-worn muscles and a shift of gravity tugging an uncomfortable pressure on his bladder. Bathroom first, then.

After relieving himself in Jun’s bathroom, Aiba wandered into the living room. Jun was in the kitchen, back turned to Aiba where he was bent over the cause of the delicious smell on the stove. The sound of the pan sizzling and smoking was loud enough for Jun not to notice as Aiba padded into the kitchen to join him. He stiffened instinctively at Aiba’s arm sliding around his back before relaxing, turning his head to meet Aiba’s hovering beside him.

“Sleep well?” Jun said, reaching to lower the heat of the stove. “Figured you’d probably be starving by now.”

Aiba dropped his chin to rest on Jun’s shoulder. It only took a few seconds of fingers wriggling under the hem of his shirt for Jun to put aside his spatula and swivel around into Aiba’s embrace, lips meeting.

Jun’s hands stroked down the smooth skin of Aiba’s back. “You’re very naked,” he said.

Aiba pressed his hips a little firmer against Jun to demonstrate just how true that statement was. “Problem?”

“Not exactly.” Jun pushed forward, moving Aiba until they met the opposite counter. “But I don’t want you getting burnt.”

Kissing Jun was still a novelty Aiba didn’t want to let go of too easily. His body was not so compliant, insistently reminding him of his hunger even as Jun did a good job of distracting him with his tongue. An audible growl from Aiba’s stomach ruined the pleasant moment they were sharing. Jun laughed and broke away.

“I should feed you,” he said and turned around to inspect the simmering pot. “It’s not quite ready yet.”

“It smells delicious,” Aiba said, stepping a little closer to peer at the pot’s contents. Chunks of meat and potatoes were just visible under a thick, brown curry sauce. His stomach grumbled loudly again.

Jun smiled. “Another ten minutes and it will be perfect.” He placed the spoon back down on the counter and replaced the pot’s lid. “I don’t know whether to call this a very late lunch or an early dinner.”

“What time is it anyway?”

Jun checked his watch. “It’s—ah. Almost four.” Frustration twitched across his features and he sighed.

“Something the matter?”

“I have to step out again.” He looked at Aiba. Hesitation caught his words but Aiba understood what he wanted to ask.

"I can wait here for you," he said, smiling at the look of relief on Jun's face. "If that's okay with you? I mean, it would feel weird to suddenly leave like this."

"Are you sure? I'll be at least an hour... hopefully not any longer, but it's hard to tell. Everything's just so crazy right now."

"It's fine." Aiba took a step forward, hand finding Jun's waist, and a playful smirk darted across his lips. "Will I cause a scandal if I go out like this? I left my bag in your car."

Jun laughed. "Let's find you something to wear."

~

A long shower followed by a leisurely lunch helped time pass by faster than Aiba had expected, but after cleaning the kitchen and retrieving his bag from Jun’s car, he was left at a loss. An inspection of Jun’s house revealed little: it was as small as it appeared at first glance, with no hidden surprises save for the rather intense collection of creams arranged neatly in the bathroom vanity. Aiba opened one of the jars to sniff at its contents before deciding he should probably leave them alone.

When Jun returned, Aiba was stretched out on his stomach across Jun’s couch with one of Jun’s books in his hand. He’d read it for a little while, but the fading light from outside made his eyelids droop and getting up to switch a lamp on felt as if it would be too much effort.

Jun settled on the edge of the couch as Aiba twisted his body to face him, a solid weight pressing against his hip. “Interesting book?” he asked as he reached over to turn the cover into view.

“Mm, I think Reiko was about to meet the mysterious guy who’s been leaving her cryptic messages.”

“Ah.” Jun plucked the book from Aiba’s hands and dropped it onto the coffee table. “I know this one. The ending is disappointing.”

Aiba blew a short burst of air from his mouth, sending his fringe into disarray. “Now you’ve ruined it.”

Jun smiled, unconcerned, and fixed Aiba’s hair back into place with his fingers. “I have something better to show you anyway.” He moved his hand to Aiba’s shoulder and tugged him upright. Aiba happily obliged.

The air was warm when they stepped outside Jun’s house, despite the loss of sun. Aiba could see a soft haze of yellow light glowing through the glass panes of the greenhouse, illuminating their path as they walked. When Jun led him inside, the light was revealed to come from a mass of tiny globes strung from the ceiling. Their appearance made Aiba think of the lights he knew would soon decorate the city for the summer festival and he felt a twinge of regret spark through his awe at the thought of not getting to share the sight with Jun.

At Jun’s expectant smile turned his way, Aiba pushed down the feeling. “You keep surprising me,” he said.

The smile on Jun’s face widened, eyes sparkling through the dark shadows cast on his face. “It’s fun to watch you react every time,” he replied. “But this is it for surprises from me. I realise it might not be as exciting as—”

“It is.” Aiba grabbed ahold of Jun’s hand as he interrupted him and swivelled to position their faces close together. “I think it’s magical.”

He placed a soft kiss on Jun’s cheek before moving back with a smile.

As they walked through the greenhouse, Jun became quiet. Aiba could feel the subtle shift in the tension of his fingers clasped around Aiba’s own, the slowing of his footsteps to indicate his distraction.

He soon discovered why.

“I’m sorry that not all of the surprises were good,” Jun said after they’d been walking in silence for a little while.

Aiba nudged him gently with his hip. “I thought I told you before not to apologise.” When there was no response from Jun, Aiba glanced over at his face. In the softer light, he’d missed noticing just how weary Jun looked. Grey smudges lined the bottom of his eyes and the corners of his mouth drooped in an unconscious frown.

Aiba squeezed Jun’s hand. “Everything okay?”

“It’s… the same, I guess.”

“Should I leave? I don’t want to be keeping you—”

“No.” Jun stopped walking and looked at Aiba. “I want you here. I wanted to show you this.”

He made to move again but Aiba pulled him back. “Hey,” he said at Jun’s questioning glance. “I have a surprise for you too.”

Aiba reached into his pocket for the small cloth bag he’d moved there earlier while Jun was away. He pulled it forth and passed it over to Jun. A moment passed where Jun stared at the bag and then back at Aiba, but Aiba offered no hint; he simply waited. Jun unclasped his hand from Aiba’s and took the bag, pulling at the strings to open it before tipping the contents onto his palm.

The same purple shimmer Aiba saw before spilled from the bag and settled around the ring as Jun held it in his hand.

“Do you like it?” Aiba couldn’t hide the hint of nervousness in his voice. “I thought it suited you.”

Jun curled a finger to run around the edge of the band. Aiba stepped forward and grasped Jun’s hand. “Here,” he said, taking the ring from Jun. “Let me.”

He slid the ring over one of Jun’s bare fingers. The purple shimmer seeped into Jun’s skin as he did and disappeared.

“Oh, it fits!” said Aiba. “I wasn’t sure if it would, but—”

He was silenced by the press of Jun’s lips to his. The kiss was slow; determined. Aiba could feel the metal of the new ring on Jun’s finger against his skin as Jun slid his hand over the exposed part of Aiba’s shoulder.

Aiba stopped thinking for a little while.

By the time Jun finally pulled back, Aiba’s hands had found their way to twist into the back of Jun’s hair and the soft fabric of his shirt. He was reluctant to let go.

“Can I say something selfish?” asked Jun.

Aiba nodded. His voice was lost to him.

“I don’t want this to be the end for us.” One of Jun’s hands dropped to hold Aiba’s waist, fingers curling around his hipbone. “I want to see you again. When things are better. I want everything.” He paused. “Is that too much to ask?”

Aiba relaxed the fingers in Jun’s hair and smoothed them down the nape of his neck. He only stopped when they finished their path around to Jun’s face, cupping his jaw.

“It’s not.” He leaned closer so their noses were almost touching. “I want everything too. Actually, I demand it. You’re not letting go of me that easily.”

Jun smiled his way into Aiba’s mouth.

~

If their story was a fairy tale, Aiba would find the cure to the Queen’s illness. He would discover it unexpectedly on one of his flights and race it over to the palace, becoming her saviour before it was too late. A joyous celebration would follow, and the Crown Prince would be so grateful that he would offer to repay Aiba in any way he could.

Life was never so pretty. The Queen’s unfortunate passing was declared six weeks after Aiba last saw Jun.

The city fell into a state of mourning. Businesses closed for the day of the memorial service and the centre square was filled with people dressed in heavy black despite the summer heat. For days following, the sombre mood remained, and it felt as if there were reminders plastered everywhere Aiba turned of what had occurred.

It was the strongest presence the royal family had possessed within the city since Aiba was born. He wished everything would go back to normal so that he no longer felt guilty for feeling more hope than grief.

“You do realise that it’s okay to be happy about this?” Nino said to him one day. “It’s not as if you knew the Queen; you shouldn’t have to feel sad just because she died. Most people are just pretending because they think it’s what they’re supposed to do.”

It would be nice if he could listen to Nino’s words, but he had little reason to feel much happiness. Two weeks had passed since the announcement of the Queen’s death, and still there was yet to be any indication from Jun as to when he would be back in the city. Aiba had felt too selfish to bring it up in any of the brief phone calls they’d exchanged over those past two weeks hearing how exhausted Jun sounded.

At least he had the comfort of knowing Jun never failed to tell him that he missed him before hanging up.

Jun’s continued absence wasn’t the only reason for Aiba’s dampened mood. Ever since they’d parted, his focus had scattered, and the colours that usually came to him so easily had started to fade. The flights he took for his morning deliveries were bleak without the familiar patterns to guide him. He soon abandoned them in favour of starting his shifts at _Patisserie S_ when it opened.

Ohno never commented on the change. Sho did, eyes heavy with worry. “Early again?” he asked Aiba the fourth time he ran into him on his way out from Ohno’s apartment to work. “Deliveries going okay?”

Aiba knew he couldn’t hide his feelings with wide smiles when Sho knew him too well, but he tried anyway. “Everything’s fine. Just taking a bit of a break.”

Sho’s eyebrows pressed together in a frown. He opened his mouth to say something, but Ohno’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. They exchanged a look before Sho relented with a small nod and left the store.

Aiba’s throat felt thick when Ohno’s gaze turned his way.

Mondays became a rare opportunity for him to sleep in, with no work and no deliveries. For Aiba, not used to the concept, it meant turning off his alarm and waiting for sunrise to uncurl him from sleep. He wasn’t one to lounge around in bed when the promise of what day might bring beckoned him, but he liked to linger just long enough to feel the sun’s rays creep warmth along his bare skin.

That’s what he fell asleep expecting after a late dinner at Sho’s apartment—intended to distract him, he was sure—on the Sunday night that marked two months since he’d last seen Jun in person.

Instead, his eyes found no trace of sunlight when they snapped open, too early. His body jerked upright in his bed like a puppet on a string, and the feeling that cut through his cloudy thoughts was one Aiba knew.

He didn’t question what was happening. Without even pausing to check the clock on the table beside him, Aiba threw back the covers and leapt for his closet, throwing on whatever clothes he grabbed first in his haste.

There was only the faintest glimmer of the rising sun on the horizon when he reached the rooftop of his apartment building. A single light above the door bounced off the metal of his aircraft, giving Aiba just enough visibility to see where he was going. Only when he reached for the aircraft handle, glowing with a subtle shimmer of purple, did he notice what had been hidden by the dark cover of night.

A bouquet of flowers rested on the bonnet. Camellias, Aiba thought as he lifted them in his hands for closer inspection. Red, pink and white bundled together with a ribbon attached to a small card. He flipped the card over and squinted to read the tiny inscription in the dim light.

_When compared to_  
_the feelings in my heart_  
_after we’d met and loved,_  
_I realise that in the past_  
_I had no cares at all._

Faint memories pricked at Aiba’s consciousness of lessons in youth spent attempting to make sense of his teacher’s droning monotone when daydreaming always seemed so preferable. The vague feeling of those memories washing past was nothing compared to the pulsing sensation that thrummed through his body, insisting he still needed to move. He climbed into his aircraft, carefully resting the bouquet on the passenger seat beside him, and set off.

Aiba felt as if he was reuniting with an old friend when he rose into the sky and saw lines of colour stretched out above the city. Violet and emerald entwined together, marking a clear path for him to follow. He discovered yellow sunflowers tied to a bridge over the river, forget-me-nots resting between the roots of an old maple tree, blue tulips propped against the door of _Patisserie S_. Aiba removed one of the tulips from its bouquet and left it behind for Ohno to discover when he opened the store.

When he reached the entrance to the marketplace, the sky had softened with the arrival of the morning sun. Some of the market vendors making an early start to their day gave him curious glances as he strode past, but Aiba hardly noticed them, so caught in his anticipation of what he would find next.

It wasn’t too much of a surprise when he saw Jun, standing in the same place where they’d first met.

Aiba was already running when Jun caught sight of him. There was no chance for Jun to do anything but smile before he found himself having to stagger against the weight of Aiba crashing into him, almost toppling over. He laughed as they spun in an unsteady circle, arms reaching around to circle Aiba’s waist and Aiba swallowed that laughter with lips eager to taste. The vibrations from Jun’s throat fluttered against the roof of his mouth and Aiba didn’t think he’d ever felt anything better.

“You found me,” Jun said when they broke apart.

Aiba smiled at him. “Finally.” His fingers danced up the back of Jun’s neck, finding tendrils of hair grown longer than he remembered. He suddenly wanted to explore every inch of Jun to see what else had changed.

“Did you also find the find the flowers?” Jun asked with a hint of worry pressing between his brows. “I wasn’t sure if it would work the way I wanted but I’ve been thinking about how your magic works—actually, I talked to Yuko a bit about it, and we agreed—“

“Jun.” Aiba tightened his grip on Jun’s shoulder, uninterested in discussing his theories when there were far more important matters at hand. “I found the flowers. All of them.” He stared at Jun’s face, noting the redness in his eyes. “You mustn’t have slept, right? To get here and arrange everything.”

“I didn’t want anyone to take them before you could find them.”

“I can’t believe you did all of this.” Aiba’s throat made a noise caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “You didn’t have to, you know? Just having you back here is good enough for me.”

“Maybe.” Jun pressed closer, eyes serious. “But you deserve a grand gesture.”

Aiba moved to kiss him again but Jun held back. “Speaking of,” he said, removing his arm from Aiba’s waist to reach for his jacket pocket, “I still have one last surprise for you. I know that roses are probably the appropriate choice, but they seemed too cliché.”

Aiba grinned. “We can’t have that, can we?”

Jun removed Aiba’s hand from his shoulder and held it between their chests. He retrieved whatever it was he’d been searching for from his jacket pocket, hidden from Aiba’s view in his balled fist, and dropped it directly onto Aiba’s upturned palm.

When Aiba looked down, he saw a ring. Soft, warm gold shone against his skin and he could have laughed when he realised the ring was made of _rose_ gold. His throat was stuck, however. The design of the ring was breathtakingly familiar; an exact copy of one on Jun's hand, still curled around his.

“I thought it was fitting,” Jun said. “Is it okay?”

Aiba chose to show his appreciation through action rather than words. He clutched the ring tightly in his hand as he threw his arms around Jun’s shoulders, careful not to drop it as he kissed Jun with everything he had.

“I love it,” he said in one of the brief pauses that came when he could pull himself away from Jun’s mouth to breathe. “I love… I—" He swallowed, putting small space between them, and tried to grasp at the whir of his thoughts to form complete sentences. "You better be staying longer this time. I need more than a day.”

Jun pulled back, lips curving into a smile. “That depends,” he said.

“On what?”

“On how long you’ll have me.”

Aiba stilled. “What do you mean?”

“It means I’m moving back here.” Jun’s smile stretched wider. “Autumn seems like the perfect time for a change.”

The surprise almost caused Aiba to drop his ring. He clenched his fingers tighter. “What about the palace? The greenhouse?”

“They can do without me. I was always only in the employ of Her Highness, anyway.” The corners of Jun’s mouth dropped at the mention of the Queen and Aiba moved his empty hand to stroke the back of Jun’s shoulder. Jun relaxed into the touch, eyes focusing on Aiba's once more.

“As for the greenhouse,” continued Jun, “I will miss it, but… I can live without it. Besides, I figured I could have my own. Here, in the city, or somewhere close by—wherever there’s space. It’ll be smaller, of course, but I’m pretty excited by the idea.”

Aiba could picture it already: Jun creating the ideal greenhouse for him to spend his days in and for Aiba to visit after he’d finished his deliveries, close enough to Ohno’s patisserie for them to walk over together and share a morning break over coffee and pastries. He could set up shop in the market district to sell potions and perfumes, or perhaps Aiba would expand his delivery service into a more traditional operation and the two of them would work together.

And then, maybe one day, Jun's new home could become _their_ new home. It was far too early to even consider, but the idea flitted into the back of his mind and didn't seem too impossible.

Whatever happened, Aiba was looking forward to it.

“So,” said Jun. “What do you think?”

Aiba wrapped his arms around the back of Jun’s neck and reached forward until only the scantest breath separated their lips from meeting.

“I think it sounds perfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> The poem Jun puts on the card Aiba reads is from the _Ogura Hyakunin Isshu_ (Poem Number 43, translated by Professor Joshua Mostow)[.](https://100poets.wordpress.com/2013/02/01/changed-ones-life-poem-number-43)
> 
> I'm sadly not nearly as inventive as Aiba, so credit for pastry/flavour inspiration goes to Adriano Zumbo, Koi Dessert Bar and Black Star Pastry.


End file.
